
C0PYfll6HT.ie89.BY HAROLD ROORDACHl 



3^00rbacJ)'S full DeSCdptlbe Catalogue of Dramas, Comedies, Comediettas, Farces, 
Tableaux-vivants, Guide-books, Novel entertainments for Church, School and Parlor 
Exhibitions, etc., containing complete and explicit information, will be sent to any addres* 
on receipt of a stamp for return postage. Address cs above. 







ROORBACH'S AMERICAN EDITION. 



PRICE, 15 CENTS EACH. 

This series embraces the best of plays, suited to the present time. The reprints have 
been rigidly compared with the original acting copies, so that absolute purity of 
text and stage business is wxrranted. Each play is furnished with an introduction 
of the gre;itest value to the stage manager, containing the argument or synopsis of 
incidents, complete lists of properties and costumes, diagrams of the stage settings 
and practicable scene-plots, with the fullest stage directions. They are hand- 
somely printed from new electrotyoe plates, in readable type, on fine paper. 
Their complete introductions, textual accuracy, and mechanical excellence render 
these books far superior in evcr>^ respect to all editions of acting plays hitherto 
published. ^ 

1. ALL THAT GLITTERS IS NOT GOLD. A comic drama in two acts. Six 

male, three female characters. Time, tw^o hours. 

2. A SCRAP OF PAPER. A comic drama in three acts. Six male, six female 

characters. Time, two hours. 

3. MY LORD IN LIVERY. A farce in one act. Five male, three female charac- 

ters. Time, fifty minutes. 

4. CABMAN No. 93. A farce in one act. Two male, two female characters. 

Time, forty minutes. 

5. MILKY WHITE. A domestic drama in two acts. Four male, two female char- 

acters. Time, one hour and three quarters. 

6. PARTNERS FOR LIFE. A comedy in three acts. Seven male, four female 

characters. Time, two hours. 

7. "WOODCOCK'S LITTLE GAME. A comedy-farce in two acts. Four male, 

four female characters. Time, one hour. 

8. HOW TO TAME YOUR MOTHER-IN-LAW. A farce in one act. Four 

male, two female characters. Time, thirty-five minutes. 

9. LADY AUDLEY'S SECRET. A drama in two acts. Four male, three female 

characters. Time, one hour and a quarter. 

10. NOT SO BAD AFTER ALL. A comedy in three acts. Six male, five female 
characters. Time, one hour and forty niinutes. 

11. W^HICH IS WHICH ? A comedietta in one act. Three male, three female 
characters. Time, fifty minutes. 

12. ICI ON PARLE FRAN^AIS. A farce in one act. Three male, four female 
characters. Time, forty-five minutes. 

13. DAISY FARM. A drama in four acts. Ten male, four female characters, 
'lime, tvyo hours and twenty minutes, 

14. MARRIED LIFE. A comedy in three acts. Five male, five female characters. 
Time, two hours. 

15. A PRETTY PIECE OF BUSINESS. A comedietta in one act. Twomale, 
three female characters. Time, fifty minutes. 

l5. LEND ME FIVE SHILLINGS. A farce in one act. Five male, two female 
characters. Time, one hour. 

17. UNCLE TOM'S CABIN.— Original Version-. A drama in six acts. Fifteen 
male, seven female characters. Time, three hours. 

18. UNCLE TOM'S CABIN.— New Version. A drama in five acts. Seven 
male, five female characters. Time, two hours and a quarter. 

19. LONDON ASSURANCE. A comedy in five acts. Ten male, three female 
-characters. Time, two hours and three quarters. 

20. ATCHI ! A comedietta in one act. Three male, two female characters. Time, 
forty minutes, 

21. WHO IS WHO? A farce in one act. Three male, two f-male characters. 
Time, forty minutes. 

22. THE WOVEN WEB. A drama in four acts. Seven male, three female char- 
acters. Time, two hours and twenty minutes. 

XW^Any 0/ the above ivill he sent by inail^ fost-J>aid^ to any address^ on receipt 
€>/ the price, 

HAROLD T^OORBACH, Publisher, 9 Murray St., New York. 



ti 



MARRIED LIFE 

A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS 
BY / 

JOHN BALDWIN BUCKSTONE 



New American Edition, Correctly Reprinted from the Ori- 
ginal Authorized Acting Edition, with the Original 
Casts of the Characters, Synopsis of Incidents, 
Time of Representation, Description of the 
Costumes, Scene and Property Plots, Dia- 
grams OF THE Stage Settings, Sides of 
Entrance and Exit, Relative Posi- 
tions OF THE Performers , Expla- 
nation OF THE Stage Direc- 
tions, ETC., and all OF 

^ THE Stage Business. 



Copyright, 1889, by Harold Roorbach. 




"■'''SUING 1 



NEW YORK 

HAROLD ROORBACH 
PUBLISHER 



^^'^''.1^^ 

.^1^ ^ 




MARRIED LIFE. 



CAST OF CHARACTERS. 



Haymarket Theatre^ Park Theatre^ 
London, New York, 

Aug, 20, 1834. Feb, 2, 18 J ^, 

Mr. Samuel Coddle Mr. Farren. Mr. Matthews. 

Mr. Lionel Lynx Mr. Webster. Mr. Mason. 

Mr Frederick Younghusband Mr. Vining. Mr. Ritchings. 

Mr. George Dismal Mr. Brindal, Mr. Latham. 

Mr. Henry Dove Mr. Buckstone. Mr. Fisher. 

Mrs. Samuel Coddle Mrs. Glover. Mrs. Wheatley. 

Mrs. Lionel Lynx Mrs. Faucit. Mrs. S. Chapman 

Mrs. Frederick Younghusband. . .Mrs. Humby. Mrs. Harrison. 

Mrs. George Dismal Mrs. Tayleure. Mrs. Vernon. 

Mrs. Henry Dove Mrs. W. Clifford. Mrs. Gurner. 

Time of Representation — Two hours. 

SYNOPSIS OF INCIDENTS. 

Mr. and Mrs. Lynx, having discussed a conjugal breakfast, are visited 
by Mr. and Mrs. Coddle, an oddly assorted couple, just before Mr. 
Lynx departs for the day. As the latter is pre-eminently a ladies' man, 
his wife jealous by nature, and Mrs. Coddle personally attractive, the 
two ladies fall afoul of each other with slight provocation. An encounter 
of alarming proportions is terminated by the appearance of Mr. and 
Mrs. Younghusband, a newly married pair perpetually interrupting and 
contradicting each other, who drop in with some information of interest 
which is confirmed by Mr. and Mrs. Dove — the latter an ex-school- 
marm constantly drilling her lord in politeness and correct pronunciation 
which the poor man, who had been her former footman, cannot com- 
prehend. It transpires that Mr. Lynx had formerly placed at Mrs. 
Dove's school a young lady whose present whereabouts is unknown. 
This mystery so enrages Mrs. Lynx that she invites all her friends to 
dine with her the next day, in order to overwhelm her volatile spouse 
with a public exposure of his villainy. Lynx now returns to his house 



» 



4 MARRIED LIFE, 

and finds his wife possessed of embarrassing information, but promises to 
be on hand to justify himself at dinner the next day. At this juncture 
Mk. Coddle conies back, is drawn aside by Lynx, made aware of the 
latter's secret and the impossibiHty of its explanation, and consents, on 
pain of having a little secret of his own proclaimed, to assume his friend's 
burden by declaring, when the time comes^ that the mysterious young 
lady is his own daughter. 

Mr. Coddle's situation overpowers him with such nervous agitation 
as to excite his wife's suspicion and her resolve to wring a confession 
from him. His apprehension is visibly heightened at learning from Mr. and 
Mrs. Dismal of an elderly lady in black, of masculine appearance, who 
has just arrived from foreign parts in quest of a delinquent husband. 
After exacting their silence \\\ this tale of horror and despair, Mr. Coddle 
summons all his fortitude and precedes the others to the house of Mr. 
Lynx, with assumed gaiety but direful forebodings. The guests are all 
assembled, the dinner takes place and Mr. Lynx vindicates his conduct 
to the satisfaction of everybody except his wife ; but Mr. Coddle's 
Nemesis overtakes him in the shape of a letter to Mrs. Coddle from the 
elderly lady in black, in which the latter claims to have been married to 
the monster twenty years back. Then follows a general explosion. Mrs. 
Coddle bids her treacherous Samuel an eternal farewell ; Mrs. Lynx 
having laid bare her lord's supposed perfidy, quits his house forever, 
while he in disgust, starts in another direction never to return; Mr. and 
Mrs. YoQnghusband, catching the infection, separate after a spirited 
wrangle; the Dismals flounce out in opposite ways after concluding that 
they were a couple of old fools to marry at all ; and Mr. Dove, having 
been wounded in a tender point, departs in a passion, leaving his better 
half in a state of utter collapse. 

Mr. Coddle having taken to flight and changed his name, now secretes 
himself in an obscure location with the intent of living in future by candle 
light. While bewailing his unhappy plight he is unearthed by Mr. Lynx, 
who is followed by Messrs Dismal and Younghusband. As the un- 
happy wretches are reflecting what indispensable comforts wives are, Mr. 
Dove arrives with intelligence that the- elderly lady in black is not the 
first Mrs. Coddle at all, whereupon he is dragged out by the now 
ecstatic Coddle to discover and satisfy the lawful Mrs. Coddle; the 
other men being advised to seek and become reconciled to their wives as 
well. Meanwhile the five ladies hold an indignation meeting which is 
dissolved in tears. Mr. Lynx now seeks his wife and clears up the 
mystery of the young lady at school. Mr. and Mrs. Younghusband 
adjust their differences happily ; the Dismals are reunited in cheerfulness ; 
Mr Dove forgives his Martha, who promises never to correct him. again; 
and Mr. Coddle in all the conscious pride of innocence, becomes recon- 
ciled to his wife, and sets an example of the way that all matrimonial 
quarrels should end, which the others follow. Their conjugal joy is now 
complete, and their lesson has taught that the best of happiness is found in a 
loyal and affectionate Married Life. 

COSTUMES. 

N. B. For the convenience 0/ managers two sets of costume sare indi' 
cated. Those pertaining to the time of its original production may^ per* 



MARRIED LIFE. 5 

haps^ be more consonant with the spirit of the play^ though many companies 

will prefer modern dresses. The follotving costume plots have been pre- 
pared expressly for this edition of ** Married Life" by The Eaves 
Costume Company, No, 63 East 12th Street^ New York^from whom all 
costumes may be hired at reasonable charges. 

Original— 1834. 

Mr. Coddle. — ist Dress : Long drab greatcoat, with gray spencer (a 
short overcoat) worn over it ; drab pantaloons; colored gaiters; broad- 
brimmed hat; Welsh wig (a worsted cap); large comforter or woolen 
scarf around neck. 2d Dress : Blue swallow-tail coat with brass buttons; 
satin waistcoat ; gaiter-pantaloons ; stock and collar, jd Dress : Nan- 
keen frock coat and gaiter-p^antadoons; white waistcoat; ruffled shirt- 
front; straw hat. 

Mr. Lynx. — ist Dress : Morning gown, afterwards changed for walk- 
ing coat; light waistcoat and pantaloons; gaiters ; stock and collar. 
2d Dress: Brown swallow-tail coat with brass buttons; satin waistcoat; 
gaiter-pantaloons, jd Dress : Same as first. 

Mr. Younghusband. — ist Dress : Blue frock coat; satin waistcoat; 
tight buff pantaloons; Hessian riding boots. 2d Dress: similar to 
Lynx's second dress, jd Dress : Similar to first. 

Mr. Dismal. — Same dress throughout. Black frock coat with rather 
long skirts, black waistcoat and pantaloons ; white gaiters ; low-crowned 
black silk hat. Hair worn long and dark. 

Mr. Dove. — Same dress throughout. Plum-colored frock coat with 
short skirts and tight sleeves; tight-fitting pantaloons ; Buff waistcoat, 
white beaver hat. 

Mrs. Coddle. — White muslin or other summer-like costume; white 
satin bonnet. 

Mrs. Younghusband. — Silk dress and bonnet of the period. 

Mrs. Dismal. — Silk dress and bonnet of quaint style. 

Mrs. Dove. — Silk dress and bonnet of yellow or some other showy 
color. 

Mrs. Lynx. — Silk dress and bonnet of the period. 

Modern — 1889. 

Mr. Coddle. — ist Dress : Long ulster and pea-jacket or large plaid 
shawl worn over it; dark trousers; arctics (overshoes); knotted worsted 
cap; long woolen muffler; soft wide-brimmed hat, woolen mits and 
gloves. 2d Dress: Dark frock coat; figured waistcoat; dark brown 
trousers and gaiters, stock and collar. 3d Dress. Linen suit; straw 
hat; light necktie; low shoes. This costume to present the greatest 
possible contrast to his first dress. 

Mr. Lynx. — ist Dress : Modern smoking jacket (afterward changed 
for coat) ; fancy modern waistcoat, trousers and neck scarf. 2d Dress : 
Black evening suit. 3d Dress : Ordinary walking suit. 

Mr. Younghusband. — ist Dress: Morning suit, light overcoat and 
derby hat. 2d Dress : Black evening suit. 3d Dress : Modern walking 
suit. 



MARRIED LIFE. 



Mr. Dismal. — Black frock coat, with long skirts, waistcoat and 
trousers; black stock; drab gaiters; characteristic black silk hat. Hair 
rather long. 

Mr. Dove, — ist Dress: Plaid suit, rather loud in style; bright 
necktie; white gaiters; characteristic hat. ^^ ZV^'jj' ; Very exaggerated 
evening costume. 3d Dress : Similar to first. 

Mrs. Coddle. — ist Dress : Very thin and summery walking dress and 
hat. 2d Dress : Dinner costume, jd Dress; Same as first. 

Mrs. Lynx. — isl Dress : Handsome morning gown. 
Dinner costume. — jd Dress : Stylish walking suit. 

Mrs. Younghusband. — is^ Dress : Stylish walking suit. 
Handsome dinner gown, jd Dress ; Same as first. 

Mrs. Dismal. — Old-fashioned silk dress, bonnet, etc. 

Mrs. Dove. — ist Dress ; Very showy walking costume. 
Elaborate dinner gown, pronounced in style and color. 
Same as first. 

PROPERTIES. 



2d Dress : 
2d Dress ; 



2d Dress : 
jd Dress ; 



Act I. 

Breakfast and service on table, L. c. Bell rope by fireplace. Bell out- 
side. Watch and newspaper for Lynx. Furniture as per scene-plot. 

Act II. 

Scene i. — Book for Coddle. Letter, glass of water and shawl for 
Mrs. Coddle. Furniture as per scene-plot. Curtains at windows. 

Scene 2.— Chair. Letter for Mrs. Lynx. 

Scene 3. — Envelope containing a letter and marriage certificate. 
Letter for Mrs. Lynx. Dessert, etc., on table. Furniture as per scene- 
plot. 

Act III. 



Scene i. — Two candles burning on table, c. 
and some tow. Furniture as per scene-plot. 
Scene 3. — A chair. 



A hammer, a skewer 



STAGE SETTINGS. 

Act I. 



HintfoH 



Wndofv 



Door 



••• 

TidJe^Cbdrs 



TahJeiChaJrs 




Door 



MARRIED LIFE, 






Act 11. — Scene i. 






^ Street Baekiug 






• 


\ 


Boor f^ TdUe^ChaJis 


T 


j E&sy Chair 




\ 


Jo 




u 


Act II. — Scene J, 


InteriorJBacIung 






\ 


1 • • • • . 




y 


Y . V ^ "^* 


• 


1 
Door 

\ 


/ Table 




• L 


Act III.— Scene i. 


Inierior Backing 


_ 




I I 1- 


\ 


/' • 






/ C^ • ■ • 




L 

\ 


/• TaUe ^Chairs 




L 



8 MARRIED LIFE. 

SCENE PLOT. 

Act I. 

An apartment at the house of Mr. Lynx. Fancy chamber in 3 g. 
Doors R. I E« and L. I E. Fireplace L. 2 E. Practicable windows r. 2 e. 
and R. 3 E. Desk c, against flat. Easy- chair before fireplace. Table 
and 2 chairs L. c. Small table and chair R. c. 

Act it. 

Scene i. — An apartment at the house of Mr. Coddle. Fancy cham- 
ber in 3 G. Street backing in 4 G. Windows, with curtains, R. and L. 
in flat. Doors, edged with list and leather, R, 2 E. and L. 2 e. Easy 
chair c. Table and chairs L. Sofa up r. 

Scene 2. — A room at Lynx's. Plain chamber in i G. Entrances R. 
and L. 

Scene 3. — Drawing-room in 3 g. Interior Backing in 4 g. Folding 
doors c, in flat. Doors R. 2 E. and L. 2 E. A large table c, on which is 
set out a complete dessert, and table appointments. Semi-circle of 10 
chairs. 

Act III. 

Scene i. — A meanly furnished room in 3 G. In the flat are a door, R., 
and a window, with closed shutters, L. Door with practicable bolt, L, 
2 E. Table and chairs C. 3 chairs R. 

Scene 2. — A room at a boarding house, in I G. Entrances R. and L. 

Scene 3. — A gallery in the boarding-house. Interior in 3 G. Practi- 
cable doors in the flat, R. and L. 

STAGE DIRECTIONS. 

The player is supposed to be facing the audience. R. means right ; 
L. left; C, center; r. c, right of center; L. C, left of center; D. F., door 
in the flat or scene running across the back of the stage; R. F., right 
side of the flat; L. F., left side of the flat; R. D., right door; L. D., 
left door; C. D., center door; i E., first entrance; 2 E., second entrance; 
u. E., upper entrance; I, 2 or 3 G., first second or third grooves; UP 
STAGE, towards the back; down stage, towards the footlights. 

R. R. C. C. L. C. L. 

Note. — The text of this play is correctly reprinted from the original 
authorized acting edition, without change. The introductory matter has 
been carefully prepared by an expert, and is the only part of this book 
protected by copyright. 




MARRIED LIFE. 



ACT I. 



Scene. — An apartment at the house ^Mr. Lynx. Lynx ?> 

discovered in his morni^ig-gown reading a newspaper before 
the fire. MRS. Lynx at a small table, R., in the sulks. 

Lynx, {readi^ig) "Bow Street. — Matrimonial Squabble. — 
The chief magistrate was occupied all the morning- investigating 
a case of assault, arising out of a matrimonial squabble. It ap- 
pears that the wife of the complainant is a woman of violent 
passions, and so excessively jealous, that her husband's life is 
endangered." Do you hear that, my dear? You are not sin- 
gular in your temper, you see. 

Mrs. Ly. Indeed ! 

Lynx. There are other women in the world excessively jealous 
besides yourself. 

Mrs. Ly. You think so, do you ? 

Lynx. Shall I read the whole of the police report ? 

Mrs. Ly. You may do just as you please. 

Lynx. Don't you feel interested in the case ? Have you no 
sympathy with the poor woman t 

Mrs. Ly. You have taken good care to destroy all my sym- 
pathy ; indeed, almost every teeling and quality that I once pos- 
sessed. 

Lynx, Save one, my dear. 

Mrs. Ly. Well, sir, what is that one ? 

Lynx. The quality of making yourself extremely disagreeable 
— why don't you take breakfast ? 

Mrs. Ly. I don't want any. 

Lynx. You did not sup last night. 

Mrs. Ly. I did not require it. 



lo MARRIED LIFE. 

Lynx. You ate nothing at dinner yesterday. 
Mrs. Ly. I had no appetite. 
Lynx. You'll starve yourself, love, and die. 
Mrs. Ly. Then you will be happy. 
Lynx. I shall certainly lead a quieter life- 



Mrs. Ly. And have more opportunities for carrying on your 
intrigues. 

Lynx. What intrigues, dear 1 

Mrs. Ly. Those are best known to yourself. 

Lynx. 1 thought you w-ere perfectly acquainted with them. 

Mrs. Ly. I am acquainted with a sufficiency, believe me. 

Lynx. Name them, my dear. 

Mrs. Ly. I shall not trouble myself so much. 

Lynx. Nay, I insist. 

Mrs. Ly. Well, then, sir, — my dressmaker could not call yes- 
terday, but you must make yourself ridiculous. 

Lynx. What did I do 1 

Mrs. Ly. You told her, in my presence, that she was very 
pretty. 

Lynx. Was there any sin in that ? 

Mrs. Ly. 'Twas not only a very great familiarity on your part, 
sir, but a want of respect for me. 

Lynx. True — it w^as wrong in me to forget that few women 
can endure to hear another admired. 

Mrs. Ly. And few men think their wives to be possessed of 
any charms superior to the first doll they may meet. 

Lynx. Excellent, indeed — my love, we must turn authors, and 
between us publish a book of Conjugal Aphorisms. However, I 
plead guilty to your first charge, and implore your mercy — pro- 
ceed to the next. 

Mrs. Ly. I think the last time w^e walked out with Mr. and Mrs. 
Coddle, that you might have offered me your arm, and not have 
left me to the care of the husband, while you flirted with the 
wife. 

Lynx. What do you call flirting ? 

Mrs. Ly. Whispering — laughing— and affecting to have, or 
really having, a quantity of interesting secrets. Don't ask me 
for a definition of the word, sir — I am not a dictionary. 

Lynx. I think you are, my dear— if I may judge by the hard 
w^ords that you ever use to me. Proceed with your charges, 
I beg. 

Mrs. Ly. I heard of your being in a private box at the theatre 
tw^o evenings since — and with some strange female. 

Lynx. Your hearing such a report is no evidence of its truth. 

Mrs. Ly. You were not at home on that evening ; indeed, I 
don't know when you are at home ; always out ; always running 
about ; calling on this lady, and meeting that ; receiving notes of 



MARRIED LIFE. il 

assignation, and — but I'll not endure it longer, Mr. Lynx — you 
may provoke me beyond the bounds of endurance, and then 
beware 

Lynx. Of what, dear ? 

Mrs. Ly. That is best known to myself. 

Lynx. I am grateful for the information, {rising) and now 
having discussed a very conjugal breakfast, I shall prepare for 
my morning walk. 

Mrs. Ly. Is it possible that you can have no particular appoint- 
ment } Have you had neither pink nor blue note this morn- 
ing ? 

Lynx. No, my love, {a twopenny postman's knock heard^ L.) 

Mrs. Ly. There's the postman. 

Lynx. So I hear. 

Mrs. Ly. A letter for you, no doubt. I thought it would be 
strange if a morning passed without the arrival of some myste- 
rious billet for Mr. Lynx. (Lynx makes a movement towards 
the L. entrance, but resumes his seat) Oh, sir, don't check your 
impatience — anticipate your servant and run to the door, I beg. 

Lynx. Certainly, my love — if you wish it. 

{Ly^y. jumps up, and runs off , L.) 

Mrs. Ly. Now, sir, I think I have you in my snare ; 'tis my 
own letter that has arrived, bearing a fictitious signature, and 
appointing to meet him in the park alone. He will receive it, 
read it — then what should he do — what should a good and true 
husband do under such circumstances ? Show the letter to his 
wife. Will he do that ? If he does I will freely forgive — forget — 
and think all I have seen and heard to be delusions and false- 
hoods ; — but if he neither gives it me, nor alludes to it in any 
way, I shall be convinced of his perfidy, and my course shall be 
resolved on. 

Re-enter Lynx, singing carelessly, " I have pluck'd the fairest 
flower," etc., etc. 

Lynx. By Jove, I must dress ; *tis near eleven, {looking at his 
watch) My love, I think I shall dine at my club to-day. 

Mrs. Ly. Was the letter that you have just received an invita- 
tion to meet some one there t 

Lynx. Oh, dear, no. 

Mrs. Ly. Was it from any one that I am acquainted with ? 

Lynx. No, t'was merely a note. 

Mrs. Ly. On a matter of business ? 

Lynx. Yes — yes — mere business. 

Mrs. Ly. Which, of course, you will attend to ? 

Lynx. Business must be attended to, my dear. 

Mrs. Ly. Especially when the only business of a man is pleas- 
ure. 



12 MARRIED LIFE, 

Lynx. Precisely. 

Mrs. Ly. Then you are going out ? 

Lynx. I am. 

Mrs. Ly. I think, on such a fine morning as this, you might 
for once take me with you. 

Lynx. Certainly, my love, if you wish it. 

Mrs. Ly. Ah ! will he take me t {aside) 

Lynx. Yet, now, I think if it, — I have two or three places to 
call at, where I may be detained. 

Mrs. Ly. I can wait for you. 

Lynx. That'll be so unpleasant ; I shall be fidgetty at the 
thoughts of your becoming impatient, and half the little matters 
that 1 may have to arrange may escape my memory. You had 
better name to-morrow for our walk. 

Mrs. Ly. You won't take me this morning ? 

Lynx. Not this morning. 

Mrs. Ly. You will go out '^, 

Lynx. I must. 

Mrs Ly. Very well, sir, {aside) Perfidious man, you will bit- 
terly repent this treatment of me. (CODDLE speaks outside) 
there is some one in the hall. 

Lynx, (looking offl..) They're your friends, Mr. and Mrs. 
Coddle, they will amuse you during the ten minutes that I re- 
quire for dressing. What a strange couple — so oddly assorted, 
poor Coddle is the thinnest, chilliest man in the world. You 
must shut all your windows. 

Mrs. Ly. His wife will immediately open them. 
Lynx. She, poor thing, is so hot. When he is below freezing 
point, she is above fever heat. 

Mrs Ly. You must allow that they do endeavor to accom- 
modate themselves to each other's foibles, and not oppose them, 
and use them as the means of tormenting, as some people do ! 
Lynx. We shall see. 

Enter Mr. ^^/^^Mrs. Coddle l.. Coddle wrapped up in a great 
coat, over which is a spencer; a boa round his throat; 
a cravat covering his chin, and a Welsh wig on his head, 
Mrs. Coddle is dressed in thin white niuslin. 

Cod. Ah, Mrs. Lynx ! 

Mrs. Cod. Good morning my friends. 

Lynx. How d'ye do ? How d'ye do ? 

Cod. I'm very cold — ugh ! (shuddering) 

Lynx. Quite well, Mrs. Coddle ? 

Mrs. Cod. Very well — but so hot. Phew ! Pray open the 
windows and give me some air. 

Cod. No, don't, don't— I shall jump out of one of 'em, if you do. 
My inhuman wife would drag me from my warm fireside this 



MARRIED LIFE, 13 

morning, although I told her there was an incipient easterly 
wind fluttering about. If it should blow in full force before I 
get home, I shall die. 

Mrs. Cod. My dear love — 'tis nothing but a fine refreshing 
breeze, and one that you ought to be very grateful for. 

Cod. I tell you it is warmth that I want — warmth. 

Mrs. Cod. And it's air that I want — fine, fresh, blowing, 
whistling air. 

Cod. \shuddering) Ugh — don't dear ; you chill me to the bone 
to hear you. 

Lynx. Be seated, I beg. {crosses to L.) Excuse me for a few 
minutes. (Exit Lynx, l.) 

Mrs. Ly. (aside) If he does go out, I'll follow him, watch 
him, and enjoy his disappointment. 

Cod. You have a window open somewhere, Mrs. Lynx — pray 
shut it. I sat in a draught last week, that so completely fixed my 
head upon my shoulders, that I couldn't have moved it without 
turning my whole body at the same time, had it been to save my 
life. 

Mrs. Cod. Merely a stiff neck, Mrs. Lynx. 

Cod. All my wife's fault. I sat for five days in this attitude. 
{holding his head up stiffly) If I wanted to look at anybody on 
my left, I was obliged to turn my whole body thus. If any one 
spoke to me on my right, I could only attend to them by pivoting 
so. If I wished to see what was going on behind me, I was 
obliged to whirl round like a weathercock at a sudden change 
in the wind ; but how do you think I managed my move- 
ments ? 
^ Mrs. Ly. I really can't guess. 

Cod. 'Twas the only thing I could hit upon. I sat upon my 
wife's music-stool for five whole days. I ate, drank, lived and 
twirled upon a music-stool ; — all through sitting in a draught — • 
do shut your windows, there's a dear. 

Mrs. Cod. You'll suffocate me some day. Coddle — I know you 
will. You don't know what a life I lead with him, Mrs. Lynx — 
^N^ blankets in July — think o' that. 

Cod. Highly necessary — we are more liable to take cold in hot 
weather, than in any other. I always have four colds, one 
rheumatism, and two stiff necks every July. 

Mrs. Cod. What d'ye think he did a week ago, Mrs. Lynx ? I 
had retired early ; in the middle of the night I awoke in such a 
state of alarm — I really thought the room beneath us was on fire 
the air of my apartment w^as so hot, so sultry, that I could not 
draw my breath ; I gasped for air. What can be the matter ? I 
said to myself. Surely, I've been suddenly transported to the 
Indies, and there is a thunderstorm brewing. I rose — I opened 
the windows 



U MARRIED LIFE, 

Cod. And almost killed me on the spot ; there was a strong 
north wind blowing at that moment — enough to wither one- 
imprudent woman. 

Mrs. Cod. 'Twas a fine bracing night breeze — but out of kind- 
ness to Coddle, I immediately closed the windows — Phew ! Oh, 
gracious, had you but have felt the heat — I fainted away in the 
easy-chair — Coddle rang the bell — the servants came — and, to 
my horror, we discovered that Coddle had clandestinely in- 
troduced a German-stove into the bedroom, and there it was red 
hot. Think what a person of my temperament must have 
endured ! I've been ill ever since. 

Cod. Dr. Heavysides recommended it ; he said 'tw^as the only 
thing that could save my life, and rescue me from a threatened 
pulmonary complaint. I've had a wheezing cough ever since its 
removal — barbarous woman ! {coughs) 

Mrs. Cod. You seem dull, Mrs. Lynx* 

Mrs. Ly. I'm not in very good spirits. 

Mrs. Cod. Ah ! we poor wives all have our little troubles. 

Cod. And we poor husbands too. Mrs. Coddle won't let me 
wear a bear-skin comforter — did you ever hear ot such cruelty ! 

Mrs. Cod. He thinks of nothing but his own personal ease. 

Cod. I'm obliged ; there's no one else thinks of it for me. 

Mrs. Cod. He's the most apathetic creature living — no life, no 
passion, no impulse. I do like to see a husband subject to some 
little caprices of temper. If Coddle, now, were inclined to 
jealousy — and would scold me well — and throw things about, 
and go into a fury now and then, I should be the happiest 
woman in the world ; but he won't — there he sits from morning 
till night, as carefully wrapped up as an Egyptian mummy, I 
really think he is one ; he is — he's King Cheops, {aside to Mrs. 
Lynx) Oh, Mrs. Lynx, I'd give the world to make him jealous. 
But what is the matter with you — have you had words with your 
husband ? 

Mrs. Ly. I confess that we have had a triflfng disagreement 
this morning. 

Mrs. Cod. How delightful ! — Coddle, why don't you go into a 
passion, and knock me down ? 

Cod. My dear, if I were to go into a passion, and suddenly 
cool, as I know I should, the checking of the perspiration would 
be the death of me — I should die. 

Re-enter Lynx, dressed for walking. 

Lynx. Good morning, my friends ! I am going to leave you ; 
don't you hurry away on my account. 

Mrs. Ly. There's no necessity for that ; I shall be alone the 
whole day. 

Mrs. Cod. {Jto Mrs. Lynx) Ah ! you are a happy woman in 



MARRIED LIFE, 15 

possessing-~such a husband ! Look at him, Coddle ; observe his 
manner — his air. Why don't you dress in that fashion ? 

Cod. Me ! as thinly clad as Mr. Lynx is now — would you see 
me in my grave 1 Ugh ! I shudder to look at him. 

Mrs. Cod. I'm sorry that you are going out. {to Lynx) I 
thought to have passed a very pleasant morning in your society. 

Mrs.' Ly. {aside) I'm certain there's an understanding be- 
tween them. {watchmg them with suspicion}) 

Mrs. Cod. (to Lynx) A v^ord with you. {she whispers to 
Lynx, and laughs.) Ha ! ha ! ha ! it w^ould be very droll, now 
— would it not t 

Lynx. Ha ! ha ! very, indeed. 

Mrs. Cod. I shall endeavor 

Lynx. Do, do — rely upon me. Ha ! ha ! 

Mrs. Cod. Ha ! ha ! ha 1 

Lynx. Adieu, my friends, adieu. Good morning, Mrs. L. If 
I do not return by five, you need not expect me till late. — Adieu. 
(Exit, L.) 

Mrs. Ly. May I ask, madam, why you whispered my husband ? 

Mrs. Cod. A mere matter of pleasantry. 

Mrs. Ly. Indeed ! 

Mrs. Cod. He's the most charming creature living, is that 
husband of yours. I wish my poor drone was like him. 

Mrs. Ly. I should be sorry to make your husband unhappy, 
madam. 

Mrs. Cod. Do, do — make him wretched, there's a love — but 
for once. 

Mrs. Ly. I don't comprehend you, madam — I can only observe, 
that your conduct to my husband, a moment since, was as ill- 
mannered as it seemed suspicious. 

Mrs. Cod. He's a fine spirited man. {looki?tg at CoT>T>l.Y., 

who is busy wrapping hiinself closely up) 

Mrs. Ly. Indeed ! pray, madam, what might be the subject of 
your whispers ? 

Mrs. Cod. I never betray confidences. 

Mrs. Ly. Surely you are not that base woman, who, under the 
mask of friendship, seeks to ruin my peace ? I have watched 
your behavior before, madam, and I am now convinced there is 
some secret correspondence between you and my husband ; and 
how Mr. Coddle can sit there^ and affect to be blind to your 
actions, I am at a loss to conceive. 

Cod. Blind — I affect to be blind — what is there to see, madam .? 
Mrs. Cod. (aside) This is delicious ; — if Coddle would but 
listen to her. 

Mrs. Ly. What is there to see ? — quit my house, and froni 
this moment I trust that neither of you will enter it again. 
Cod. What have we done ? 



t6 MARRIED LIFE. 

Mrs. Ly. {to MRS. Coddle) I look upon you, madam, as a 

dangerous woman. 

Cod. So she is, my nightcaps are never thoroughly aired. 

Mrs. Ly. And if your husband can countenance your conduct, 
I'm not so lost to every sense of self-respect as to submit to it. 

Mrs. Cod. Bless me, Mrs. Lynx, what do you mean ? 

Cod. (coming between them) Don't, don't, pray don't* excite 
me ; if you get to words I must interfere, and any interference, 
at this moment, might be fatal. 

Mrs. Ly. I shall not attempt to explain my insinuations — I 
only desire that you will leave me to myself, and that your visits 
here may be less frequent. 

Mrs. Cod. Don't you stir from this house. Coddle, till you are 
perfectly convinced of the baseness of her innuendos. Be jealous, 
and demand an explanation ; if you don't, I'll tear the list from 
all the doors at home. 

Mrs. Ly. Will you compel me to ring the bell ? 

Mrs. Cod. Go into a rage, Mr. Coddle. 

Cod. I can't (Mrs. Lynx throws open a window, r.) My 
love, we are in a thorough draught ; that woman wants to de- 
stroy me. Let us leave the house, if you wish to see me alive an 
hour hence. Be satisfied — I'll call on Mr. Lynx, and demand an 
explanation. 

Mrs. Cod. But one word more 

Cod. No, no, not one. Come, my dear, I've the rheumatics in 
my right shoulder already — I tremble from head to foot — I've 
taken cold, and you'll have to nurse me for a month. Come, dear, 
come. {Yj±it L., dragging off Mrs, Coddle.) 

Mrs. Ly. (falling into a chair) Wretched woman that I am, 
why did I ever give power to any man so to torment me } I'll 
now follow Mr. Lynx, and enjoy his disappointment. 

Mrs. Cod. {without) Don't send up your name at present, 
the poor creature is in a rabid state. 

Mrs. Y. {heard without) Mrs. Lynx won't mind us. 

Mrs. Ly. {looking off, L.) Who is this .^ Mr. and Mrs. Young- 
husband .'^ — now provoking — just as I'm going out. What can 
bring them here ? — they are a couple that 1 can't endure ; though 
married but three months, they are perpetually contradicting and 
annoying each other ; if, now, they had suffered the five years of 
matrimony that I have, there might be some excuse for them ; 
but to disagree so early in their career is sad indeed. 

Enter Mr. and Mrs. Younghusband, l. 

Mrs. Y. {running to Mrs Lynx, and taking both her hands) 
How do you do, dear ? don't mind me and Y., coming in so un- 
ceremoniously — we have called to give you some information. 



MARRIED LIFE, 17 

Young. How can you talk so absurdly, Louisa ? we have not 
called to give Mrs. Lynx any information. 

Mrs. Y. For what, then ? 

Young. Merely to tell her that a person wishes to see her. 

Mrs. Y. Well, that is information. 

Young. No, it isn't. 

Mrs. Y. Yes it is. 

Young. How can that be .^ 

Mrs. Y. To tell anybody of any matter, is to inform them ; 
and to inform people is, of course, to give them information. 
How you do contradict me ! 

Mrs. Ly. What then, is the information that you bring me ? 

Mrs. Y. There, you hear, sir, Mrs. Lynx allows it to be 
information. 

Young. It can't be. 

Mrs. Y. But it is. 

Young. It isn't ; you have not informed Mrs. Lynx of any- 
thing yet. 

Mrs. Y. I should have done so, if you had not interrupted and 
contradicted me, as you always do. 

Young. Allow me to tell Mrs. Lynx. You must know, madam, 
that some years ago, my wife was sent to the boarding-school of 
Mrs. Dove, in Sussex 

Mrs. Y. No, it was in Kent. 

Young. In Sussex. 

Mrs. Y. In Kent, I tell you. 

Young. If you aggravate me in this manner, I'll go home again. 

Mrs. Ly. Well— well. 

Mrs. Y. Last night, at a friend's house, we accidentally met 
Mr. and Mrs. Dove — when she informed us that she had given 
up her school, and was now in London for the purpose of collect- 
ing some old debts, and amongst the names of the persons that 
she had to call on, was that of Mr. Lynx 

Mrs. Ly. My husband ? 

Mrs. Y. Your husband. 

Young. Louisa, how can you ? why will you thus agitate Mrs. 
Lynx ? You are not sure the Mr. Lynx, that Mrs. Dove is look- 
ing for, is the husband of our friend ; we merely surmised that 
it was. 

Mrs. Y. I tell you, I'm ceKtain it is the same. 

Young. You are not. 

Mrs. Y. I am. 

Young. It can't be the same. 

Mrs. Y. It is. 

Young. It isn't. 

Mrs. Ly. Now, pray don't trifle with me ; think of my dreadful 
suspense ; think of my feelings at this moment. 



1 8 MARRIED LIFE, 

Mrs. Y. Mrs. Dove is now below, with her husband ; shall I 
ask her to walk up ? — then she can relate this strange circum- 
stance herself. 

Young. You ought first to tell Mrs. Lynx, who and what the 
people are, before you introduce them to her. 

Mrs. Y. There is no necessity for it. 

Young. There is. 

Mrs. Y. There isn't. 

Young. I tell you there is. 

Mrs. Ly. Yes, yes — pray tell me. 

Mrs. Y. Well, then — Mrs. Dove, you must know, was a 
widow, and formerly the mistress of a large boarding-school ; 
but has now retired, after marrying her footman. They are the 
oddest couple you ever met with. She is perpetually drilling her 
husband into politeness and correct pronunciation, which the 
poor man will never comprehend as long as he lives. Oh, had 
you but seen them last night ! Whenever a bell rang, poor Mr. 
Dove could scarcely help starting from his chair, and running to 
attend to it ; and could only be checked by the alarming eyes of 
Mrs. Dove. Ha ! ha ! — Oh, those eyes — how they did remind me 
of my school-days ! just the looks that she used to dart at us poor 
refractory girls. 

Young. My dear, why don't you keep to that portion of the 
narrative most interesting to Mrs. Lynx ; she don't w^ant to hear 
of great eyes and refractory girls. 

Mrs. Y. I am sure I have mentioned all that is necessary. 

Young. You have not. 

Mrs. Y. I have. 

Young. You have not. 

Mrs. Ly. Ask them to w^alk up, I shall then be satisfied. 

Mrs. Y. (calling) Step up, Mrs. Dove, and bring your husband 
with you. 

Young. There is no necessity for calling up Mr. Dove. 

Mrs. Y. There is. 

Young. There isn't. 

Mrs. Y. There is. 

Young. They are here ; don't make a* noise. 

Mrs. Y. 'Twas you that made the noise. 

Young. 'Twas not. 

Mrs. Y. It was. • 

Enter Mr. and MRS. Dove, l. 

Mrs. Y. Mrs. Lynx— Mr. and Mrs. Dove. Will you be kind 
enough to relate to Mrs. Lynx the purport of your inquiry ? 

Mrs. Dove. The purport of my inquiry is to ascertain, whether 
the Mr. Lynx, that I am informed is residing here, is the identical 
person who, two years ago, placed a young lady under my care. 



MARRIED LIFE. 



19 



Mrs. Ly. A young lady ! My husband place a young lady 
under your care ? 

Young. Nay, madam, before you distress yourself, you had 
better be assured that the Mr. Lynx alluded to is your husband. 

Mrs. Dove. The gentleman's christian cognomen was Lionel. 

Dove. Lionel Lynx, Esquire. 

Mrs. Dove. Silence, my dear ! 

Dove. That is what was on the trunk he sent to our house ; 
that's all I know, my precious. 

Mrs. Ly. The name is perfectly correct. 

Mrs. Dove. I was told that he had been in the army 

Mrs. Ly. Right, madam. 

Mrs. Dove. But had^sold his commission, and was married. 

Mrs. Ly. You are right, madam — it is the same ; there is not 
the slightest shadow of a doubt but 'tis the same ; — and this per- 
son that he placed with you, what was she 1 

Mrs. Dove. A young lady of great personal attractions. 

Mrs. Ly. Ha ! 

Dove. She played the harp diwinely, 

Mrs. Dove. Divinely, dear; think of your v's. 

Dove. Hang them we's j I shall never get over *em. 

Mrs. Dove. She was placed at my establishment, not so much 
with a view to education, as with reference to the meeting with a 
comfortable and respectable home at a moderate charge. 

Dove. A hundred a year, and bring your own silver knife, fork, 
spoon, and six towels ! 

Mrs. Dove. Hush, love, we must forget the school now ! 

Mrs, Ly. I never heard of this. Who could the girl have been ? 
What was her age ? 

Mrs. Dove. At that time, seventeen. 

Mrs. Ly. Her name .f* 

Mrs. Dove. Harriet Seymour. 

Mrs. Ly. Where is she now ? 

Mrs. Dove. That question I am quite incompetent to answer 
—she resided with me a year and a half, and at the end of that 
time suddenly disappeared. 

Dove. We think she eloped, for every now and then somebody 
used to come and sing under the window, to such a degree that 
all the girls in the house went raving mad. 

Mrs. Dove. Silence, dear. 

Dove. Yes, darling. 

Mrs. Dove. At the time of the young lady's disappearance, 
there remained a small balance in my favor on her account, for 
extras, and of which I think it probable that Mr. Lynx is not 
aware. 

Dove. Eight pound odd. 

Mrs. Dove. Pounds, dear ; speak in the plural. 



20 MARRIED LIFE, 

Dove. Pounds, love. 

Mrs. Ly. I'm in a maze — bewildered. Who can this girl have 
been ! Did she — did she seem attached to him ? 

Mrs. Dove. Very. 

Dove. He called once, and I happened to enter the room quite 
promiscuously where they was — 

Mrs. Dove. Where they were ; /was — they were. 

Dove. Where they were ; and I saw the young lady a dissolv- 
ing away into tears upon his shoulder. I was then Mrs. Dove's 
footman. 

Mrs. Dove. Henry ! 

Dove. Martha ! 

Mrs. Dove. How often have 1 told yoi^never to touch 

Dove. Oh, la ! Ah, I forgot. 

Mrs. Ly. T was some victim of his villainy, no doubt. How to 
discover the mystery — how to come upon him, when he may be 
unprepared for equivocation ! I have it, my friends, (to Mr. and 
Mrs. Younghusband) If you should meet Mr. Lynx, let me 
implore you not to breathe a syllable of this matter to him ; let 
me be the first to tell him. Pray oblige me by dining here to- 
morrow, {to Mr. and Mrs. Dove) You shall then be introduced 
to my husband ; and should he indeed be the person who placed 
that girl under your care, he cannot dare to deny it. You, my 
friends, (to Mr. and Mrs. Y.) will also be here— nay, I will 
invite every soul that I am acquainted with, and publicly expose 
his villainy. 

Mrs. Dove. We will do ourselves that honor. 

Mrs. Ly. To-morrow, at five. 

Mrs. Dove. We shall be punctual, madam. 

Dove, {aside to MRS. D.) You said you'd take me to the Jew- 
ological Gardens. 

Mrs. Dove. We must defer it, my dear. (aside to Dove.) 

Dove. That's the way you always serve me ; you never promise 
to take me anywhere, but I am continually disapp'inted. 

Mrs. Dove. Pointed ! 

Dove. Pointed. You use me shameful, dear. 

Mrs. Dove. Don't be an idiot, love. 

Dove. You are a brute, precious. 

Mrs. Dove. Henry ! {looking fiercely at htm) 

Dove. Oh, them eyes — I never can answer 'em. 

Mrs. Dove. Then to-morrow at five, Mrs. Lynx. 

Mrs. Ly. I shall rely on your being here— you will not dis- 
appoint me ? 

Mrs. Dove. Certainly not. Good morning. Madam. Now, 
Henry, your arm ? 

Mrs. Ly. The servant shall see you to the door. 



MARRIED LIFE, 21 

Mrs. 'Ly^^ pulls a bell-rope hanging by the side of the fire- 
place ; a bell rings. Y>0\Y. suddenly starts, and is ru7ining 
coTt/usedly as if to answer it, when jVIrs. Dove checks hi??i. 

Mrs. Dove. My lamb, you forget yourself. 

Dove. Deuce take them bells, I never can hear one without 
running to answer it. 

Mrs. Dove. Good morning, Mrs. Lynx ; good morning, 
madam; good morning, sir. {curtesyiftgprofoundly to each) Now, 
my dear, {aside to Dove) don't forget to leave the room like a 
gentleman. 

They approach the L. door, when they both make aprofound 
obeisance, and go off. MRS. hYNX falls in a chair, hiding 
her face in her ha7ids. 

Mrs. Y. My dear Mrs. Lynx, ^pray don't allow this matter to 
affect you so seriously. 

Young. Louisa, why do you check the feelings of our friend 1 
You ought to be aware that tears are a great relief when one is 
suffering from mental agitation. 

Mrs. Y. No, they ain't ; a pretty relief, indeed, to break one's 
heart with crying. 

Young. It is a relief. 

Mrs. Y. No, it isn't — how do you know ? — you never cry, you 
hardened creature. 

Young. I prefer preserving my tears for a certain event. 

Mrs. Y. Ah ! when you lose me f 

Young. Yes, dear. 

Mrs. Y. That's the kindest thing you have said since our mar- 
riage. 

Young. No, it isn't. 

Mrs. Y. Yes, it is. 

Young. It isn't. 

Mrs. Y. It is. 

Mrs. Ly. My dear friends — pray cease your bickering. 

Mrs. Y. He will always contradict me. 

Mrs. Ly. If you meet my husband, pray be silent on this mat- 
ter, and be here to-morrow, I beg ; and should I be compelled 
to take a desperate resource to conquer the feelings that now 
consume me, you will know how to pity and to pardon me. {she 
sinks into a chair.) 

Mrs. Y. Come, Frederick, we'll leave poor Mrs. Lynx ; people 
don't like to have their sorrows intruded upon. 

Young. We ought rather to stay and console her. 

Mrs. Y. A charming consoler you are — how did you console 
me yesterday, when that frightful bonnet was sent home ? 

Young. 'Twas your own taste. 

Mrs. Y. It was not. 



22 MARRIED LIFE, 

Young. You insisted upon having a fall of blonde in the front 
of it. 

Mrs. Y. That is the thing I detest. 

Young. It is the very thing that you ordered. 

Mrs. Y. When I tried it on, you told me that I never looked 
so frightful in all my life. 

Young. I didn't. 

Mrs. Y. You did — I'll burn it when I go home. 

Young. Indeed you shall not. 

Mrs. Y. I will — and I'll wear my dirty yellow one to vex you. 

(Exit L.) 

Young. Louisa ! how can you be so absurd ? Louisa, why 
don't you wait for me ? — you're the most aggravating woman I 
ever met with. 

Mrs. Y. {without) I shall go home alone. 

Young. You shall not. {rushing out L.) 

Mrs. Y. I will, [without) 

Young. You shall not. {without) 

Mrs. Y. I will. 

Young. You shall not. 

Mrs. Y. I hate you. 

Young. You don't. 

Mrs. Y. I do. 

Young. You don't. 

Mrs. Y. I do. 

The voices of Mr. and MRS. YOUNGHUSBAND are heard 
contradicting each other, till they gradually cease, 

Mrs. Ly. I surely never felt the passion of jealousy, till this 
moment ; all my past suspicions have been mere faults of temper 
compared with the restlessness, the wretched thoughts, and 
sinking of the heart that I now endure. Who can this girl be ! 
Where is she now '^. He knows full well — no doubt he visits her 
— may be at this moment in her society. I'll leave the house — 
him — all — for this agony is more than I can bear, {she is rushing 
out L., when Lynx appears.) 

Lynx. Where are you going in such haste ? 

Mrs. Ly. {co7itrolling her feelings) So soon returned ? 

Lynx. I had forgotten my purse, {going to desk, on a table up 
the stage) 

Mrs. Ly. I hope you have been gratified by your walk. 

Lynx. Yes, perfectly. 

Mrs. Ly. Of course you were not so much annoyed at your 
disappointment, but you sought amends in some more certain 
amusement. 

Lynx. Yes, dear, — I returned to you. 

Mrs. Ly. You little thought that your note of assignation — 
your note of " mere business, " was written by me. 



MARRIED LIFE, 23 

Lynx. It was, eh ! And pray, what end has the paltry trick 
answered ? 

Mrs. Ly. Your immediate attention to it has convinced me of 
your perfidy. 

Lyn2. Indeed ! Could you think of no better plan to convict 
me ? {taking a chair) 

Mrs. Ly. I have little occasion to tax my invention further, sir ; 
I now feel quite assured of my misery. 

Lynx. Of what misery ? 

Mrs, Ly. The possession of a husband who practices conceal- 
ment, {aside) I did not intend to breathe a syllable of what I 
have heard ; but I cannot resist. I must tell him — perhaps he 
may be guiltless, Lionel ! is the name of Harriet Seymour 
known to you t 

Lynx, {starting from his seat) Who has dared to utter that 
name to you ? who has dared to breathe a word of that person ? 

Mrs. Ly. Ha 1 now I am, indeed, firmly — wretchedly con- 
vinced. What, sir ! your agitation leaves you defenceless } — 
Where are your arts — your falsehoods — your equivocations, 
now t 

Lynx. Who has been here ? 

Mrs. Ly. I shall not name. 

Lynx. By heaven, you shall ! {seizing her arm.) 

Mrs. Ly. Hold, sir 1 would you use violence "^ Would you 
conceal your shame by rage t Listen to me ! Ere I quite decide 
upon my course, I will give you one opportunity of justifying 
yourself — one chance of a full and fair explanation. Promise 
me to be at home to-morrow, — I will not, in the mean time, 
allude to this matter, by a single word ; no, no — till then, I will 
conquer my feelings and be silent. I shall be sorry to proceed 
in the revenge that I contemplate ; but should I have cause — 
remember, 'twas your own hand that cast down the fire-brand 
here ; and if I do take it up, and set the home of our happiness 
in flames, you alone are to blame. (Exit, R.) 

Lynx. What can she mean .f* Does she threaten me with re- 
taliation "> Who can have been here — through what channel 
can she have heard ? But I must avoid all explanation ; I dare 
not reveal aught connected with that unhappy girl. 

Enter Coddle, l. 

Cod. Excuse my coming in so unceremoniously — I knew you 
were here — I saw you come home — merely called to oblige Mrs. 
Coddle. There's that window still open ; permit me to shut it. 
{he crosses to R., and pulls down the window) Mrs. Lynx has 
hinted to my wife that a familiarity exists between you and her, 
and one that I ought not to shut my eyes to ; now, I candidly 
confess that I have opened them as wide as I can, and what Mrs. 



24 MARRIED LIFE, 

Lynx can possibly mean, I am at a loss to guess. But entirely to 
oblige my wife, I call here, at the risk of my life — as I did not 
intend to come out any more to-day — to ask, if such a familiarity 
really exists ? Mrs. Coddle demands it, for my own satisfaction. 
If I am not satisfied, she insists on my fighting you ; and if I am 
satisfied she is determined to make Mrs. Lynx beg her pardon. 
Now what is to be done .'* 

Lynx. My dear sir, you well know the temper of my wife, and 
the pains that she takes to make herself wretched. Be assured 
that her suspicions are groundless. 

Cod. I know they are ; and 1 am convinced it has all originated 
in my wife's anxiety to excite me. 

Lynx. A word with you {bringing CODDLE forward!) I left 
you here when I went out this morning — did any one call during 
your stay ? 

Cod. No one but Mr. and Mrs. Younghusband. 

Lynx, {aside) Surely they can't have heard — no — no ; yet they 
may. Ha ! a thought strikes me. Sir, you have more than pro- 
fessed a friendship for me. 

Cod. And have proved it, too. Didn't I visit you every week, 
when you lodged in that airy situation at Hampstead ? 

Lynx. My w^ife has, by some means yet unknown to myself, 
discovered my connection wnth a young female. 

Cod. Oh, you villain ! why don't you wear a Welsh wig ? you 
would escape all these troubles, then. 

Lynx. I am compelled to avoid all explanation respecting her. 

Cod. Well ! 

Lynx. 'Tis in your power to relieve me from my embarrassment. 

Cod. In what way ? 

Lynx. This young female, I, some time since, placed at a 
country school for protection 

Cod. You rogue ! 

Lynx. She disappeared, and all trace of her had been lost. 
I Cod. Well 1 

Lynx. My wife has this moment mentioned her name. 

Cod. Then, of course, she has discovered your trick ? 

Lynx. You must publicly declare this girl to be your own. 

Cod. What ! 

Lynx. Your own daughter — and that to save your secret, I 
undertook her charge. 

Cod. Bless you ! what would Mrs. Coddle say ? My dear boy, 
she'd murder me. I could not support such an assertion for the 
world ; how could I ever look in my wife's face afterwards ? 

Lynx. With more confidence than were she to know 

Cod. What t 
Lynx whispers /^Coddle, who staggers back to a chair, in 
great alarm. 



MARRIED LIFE. 25 

Cod. I'm a dead man. 

Lynx. I am in possession of more than you thought for, Mr. 
Coddle. Now, sir, you see the plot is not one of such very great 
difficulty to execute. If you will not assist me, I must proclaim 

Cod. Not a word, on your life — plunge me into a cold bath, 
make me sleep a whole night on the top of the Monument — com- 
pel me to do anything for which I have a horror — but breathe 
not a word of that — of that 

Lynx. Do then, as I request. 

Cod. I will — I swear it — there {falling on his knees.) 

iMynsL. Save my secret, and I will preserve j^^rj-. 

END OF ACT I. 



ACT II. 



Scene I. — An apartment in the house of Mr. Coddle. Mrs. 
Coddle discovered at the table, a note in her hand, 

Mrs. Cod. How very odd ! how very strange ! though this 
note arrived last night, I have scarcely done anything since but 
read it. (reads) ** My dear Mrs. Coddle, pray pardon the warmth 
of my temper, that led me to use certain expressions to you, of 
which, at the time, I was not conscious ; though now, on recol- 
lection of them, I express my sorrow. Forgive me, and dine 
with us at five to-morrow ; do not disappoint me on your life, as 
I have a strong reason for inviting you ; bring Coddle with you, 
of course. Sincerely yours, Emmeline Lynx." What a strange 
woman ! who would suppose, that yesterday, she desired me to 
quit the house and never enter there again. Well, I'm resolved 
to go. What a length of time Coddle takes for dressing ; 'tis now 
half-past four, and I have been ready this hour, [she knocks at 
R. D.) Coddle, you drone, make haste. 

Cod. {within) I shall be ready immediately ; I am now put- 
ting on my fourth waistcoat. 

Mrs. Cod. And he wears j-^jt .' How the man can exist in such 
a state I know not ; and what is the matter with him, I am 
equally at a loss to guess ; he has been overpowered with nerv- 
ous agitation and in a high fever all the morning ; has been 
talking in his sleep all night. I could only catch the words 
" Don't — I'll say anything — declare anything — but don't." The 
man has something on his mind ; what can it be ! He surely 
can't have committed any crime — a robbery or a murder ? Oh 
the monster ! I must question him. 



26 MARRIED LIFE. 

Enter Coddle, r. d., dressed for a dinner party. 

Well, my dear, are you better ? 

Cod. Not much — I feel very faint. 

Mrs. Cod. Give me your hand. {(ZOTiY>\.Y. presents his hand 

timidly) Dear — dear — what a burning fever you are in your 

hands are like live coals ; and what a pulse ! {feeling his pulse) 
Heavens, Samuel ! — you are ill. 

Cod. I am. 

Mrs. Cod. And the cause is not so much bodily infirmity as 
mental anxiety. 

Cod. Lord i— do you — do you think so ? 

Mrs. Cod. You are fainting ; let me open the windows. 

Cod. No — no — not for worlds. 

Mrs. Cod. What has caused this fever ? 

Cod. I — I — don't know. 

Mrs. Cod. Coddle, your mind is diseased. 

Cod. My dear, don't speak to me in that fierce manner, you 
make me tremble from head to foot. 

Mrs. Cod. You pass'd a wretched night. 

Cod. I did. 

Mrs. Cod. You talk'd in your sleep. 

Cod. No ! {alarjned) Did I ; what did I say ? 

Mrs. Cod. Sufficient to rouse my suspicions. 

Cod. I have been criminating myself ; 'twas while I was dream- 
ing of being hanged, {aside) What will become of me ? 

Mrs. Cod. Tell me — what is this matter that has so suddenly 
disconcerted you ? 

Cod. Ah ! — she don't know — I breathe again. 

Mrs. Cod. Answer me, sir ; what have you done ? 

Cod. I — I — left off my life-preserving under-waistcoat, yester- 
day. 

Mrs. Cod. Base equivocator. — you shall have no rest, depend 
upon it, till I am perfectly acquainted with the cause of your 
agitation. I have watched your actions, sir, more than you are 
aware of ; *tis something in which Mr. Lynx is concerned ; I ob- 
served you, when you returned from his house yesterday, you 
came home quite an altered man — you that were not to be 
roused by anything that did not interfere with your own imme- 
diate comfort, seemed suddenly to have changed your nature ; 
the servant left your room door open, unchecked ; a broken pane 
close to your ear escaped your notice ; you ate no supper ; you 
ordered no fire in your bedroom ; and your sleep was disturbed 
by sighs and groans, and words of guilt. Ha ! I have made you 
tremble : now, sir, I shall leave you, and in the meantime you 
will do well to prepare for a confession that I am resolved to 
wring from you. {aside) I have shaken him from his lethargy at 
last. (Exit, L.) 



MARRIED LIFE. 27 

Cod. I am a lost man ; I knew my day of reckoning would ar- 
rive. Mary suspects something, that's clear — um ! — and I'm 
going out to dinner, too. What a dinner it will be to me ; it 
must be a feast of poison, and a flow of woe ; if my secret is pre- 
served, my promise to Lynx must lead to a commotion. Who 
can this girl be that I undertake to own ? ha ! ha ! — now I think 
of it, I'm safe ; he dare not betray me ; he is as much in my 
power as I am in his ; yet how could he have discovered my un- 
happy situation ? He won't acknowledge that. No, no ; he 
considers that mystery adds to his stronghold upon me. I have 
borrowed a book of criminal jurisprudence from my attorney. I 
want to learn the utmost penalty of the law for my offence, {he 
takes a bookfro?n his pocket, and turns over the leaves) Here 
it is — bigamy ! (reads) " If guilty," — what ? ** transportation 
for life " Oh ! {falling in a chair) Think of my being at Bot- 
any Bay — working night and day — summer and winter ; in 
trousers without lining ; only a shirt on my back ; and a chain 
round my leg ; no umbrella to put up when it rains ; no such 
thing as a yard of Welch flannel within a thousand miles of me, 
and nothing aired for me ; I should die ; the first damp night 
would send me to the tomb of the Coddles — oh ! {shuddering.) 

Re-enter Mrs. Coddle, l., introducing Mr. and Mrs. 
Dismal. 

Mrs. Cod. Come in, come in ; there's nobody here but Coddle. 

Cod. Ah, Mr. Dismal ! — I was thinking of you. 

Mrs. Cod. Mr. and Mrs. D. have also received an invitation to 
dine at Lynx's to-day ; and have called, in passing, to know if 
we were going. 

Mrs. Dis. How ill poor Mr. Coddle looks ! 

Dis. What is the matter with him ? 

Mrs. Cod. I'm sure I can't tell ; he keeps the cause of his ill- 
ness a profound secret. 

Mrs. Dis. He's like me ; he loves to pine in solitude, and brood 
over unrevealed sorrows. 

Dis. You love to be a fooL 

Mrs. Cod. Our friends are as much surprised at receiving an 
invitation from Mrs. Lynx as we were. 

Mrs. Dis. For the last time we called there the poor woman 
thought proper to be jealous of me. 

Dis. There was only that wanting to prove her madness. 

Mrs. Dis. But she has a cause for her jealousy 

Dis. Certainly, when you are present. 

Mrs. Dis. Didn't we see him, yesterday, following a young 
person past our house ? 

Dis. What of that '^. 'tis a natural impulse to w^hich our sex are 
peculiarly subject. 



28 MARRIED LIFE, 

Mrs. Cod. Except Mr. Coddle— Were Venus herself to rise 
from the sea before him, he'd take to his heels for fear of catch- 
ing cold from the foam. 

Mrs. Dis. Tell Mr. Coddle the strange result of our inquiries, 
respecting Mr. Lynx's conduct. 

Dis. Pooh ! tell him yourself. 

Mrs. Dis. The young person that we saw Mr. Lynx following, 
and striving to speak to, was joined by an elderly lady in black. 

Cod. Eh ! an elderly lady in black — 'twas she, he told me she 
was in black. (aside.) 

Mrs. Dis. Of a very masculine appearance ; Mr. Lynx seemed 
to enter into earnest conversation with her ; when they parted, 
the two ladies entered a boarding-house, next door to us ; our 
servant, gossiping with the footman, there, ascertained that the 
elderly lady in black — 

Cod. Well 

Mrs. Dis. Had just arrived from Antigua 

Mrs. Cod. Where your property is situated. {to CODDLE.) 

Mrs. Dis. That she had taken lodgings, there for a short time ; 
her object being to discover her husband, who had left her in the 
West Indies, and whose name, strange to say, was 

Cod. Oh I 

Coddle has started up during Mrs. D's narrative, and is 
regarding her with intense curiosity^ now falls back into 
his chair. 

Mrs. Cod. What's the matter ! — what's the matter ? 

Dis. He has fainted. 

Mrs. Dis. Here, here are my salts. 

Dis. Open the windows — open the windows. 

Mrs. Cod. No, no, you will kill him if you do. 

Dismal makes to the windows, but is checked by Mrs. Cod- 
dle ; Coddle, on hearing that the windows are to be opened, 
is about to start from his chair, but checks himself, and 
resumes his position. 

Mrs. Dis. Get him some water — ring the bell. 

Mrs. Cod. Stay, stay, I'll go myself. 

Mrs. Coddle runs oJ^r. i e, ; Coddle suddenly starts up 
between Mr. and Mrs. Dismal, and takes a hand of each. 

Cod. As you love me — if you do not wish to see me lifeless at 
your feet, breathe not a syllable relative to the elderly lady in 
black ; mention not her name. 

Dis. 'Twas your own. 

Cod. I know it, I know it — 'tis a terrible secret ; a story of 
horror and despair ; when we are alone, you shall know all ; but 
not a word now, I beg — I implore — I pray — ah, my wife ! 

[lie falls back again into his chair.) 



MARRIED LIFE, 29 

Re-enter Mrs. Coddle with a glass of water, 

Mrs. Dis. He's better now. 

Dis. Much better. 

Cod. {affecting to revive) Considerably better. 

Mrs. Cod. I don't wonder at your fainting ; my only surprise 
is, that you can breathe at all in such an atmosphere ; there's not 
a breath of air permitted to enter the room. Phew ! I'm stifled ; 
excuse me a moment, my friends, I wish to speak to Coddle alone. 
(Dismal and his wife are goi?ig) No, no — don't leave the room. 

Cod. (aside) What can she be going to say ? 

Mrs. Cod. Samuel ! 

Cod. My love ! 

Mrs. Cod. Surely your agitation, and your sudden faintness 
cannot arise from any apprehension. 

Cod. Of what .^ 

Mrs. Cod. That this elderly lady in black, is 

Cod. No, no, no — oh, dear ! no, no ! 

Mrs. Cod. You anticipate me — not what ? 

Cod. Not — I don't know. What were you going to say ? 

Mrs. Cod. I have very strange and very terrible suspicions — 
'tis surely no poor creature that you, in the hey-day of your 
youth 

Cod. No, no, no — my dear ! How can you think — how can 
you dream of such a thing ! I never had any hey-day — never ; 
don't think that of me. Come, come — let us go to Lynx's to din- 
ner. Get ready, dear, get ready. 

Mrs. Cod. I strongly suspect you. 

Mrs. Coddle goes up the stage, and throws a shawl on 
her shoulders. 

Cod. What will become of me ? If I escape the imputation of 
bigamy, the subject of that girl will be sufficient to bring my wife's 
vengeance on my head. I'll run and drown myself in a warm 
bath. I'll — no, no — I must rouse, I must rouse ; I must summon 
all my courage — all my fortitude — and bring out what little of 
the devil I have left in me. 

Mrs. Cod. Now, Coddle, I'm quite ready. 

Cod. So am I. (putting on his hat) Come along, I shall be 
very gay to-day ; you will wonder what possesses me. I shall be 
so gay ; come, Mrs. Dismal, take my arm, my dear, 'tis bad taste 
to walk with one's wife. D., look to Mrs. Coddle ! 

Mrs. Cod. The man's mad 

Dis. Raving. 

Cod. You shall see me to advantage to-day ; I feel a new man, 
you may open all the doors and windows in the house. I'll do 
anything desperate to-day, walk to Lynx's without my coat, hat, 



30 MARRIED LIFE. 

anything — come, my love. — Come, Dismal — Fol de rol, de rol 
lol. (Coddle dances offivith Mrs. Dismal, l.) 

Mrs. Cod. Mad ! 

Dis. Gone, quite gone. (^^eunty following,) 

Scene 11.— A Room at Lynx's. 
Enter Mrs. Lynx, r. 

Mrs. Ly. The time has almost arrived that will either relieve 
me from the dreadful suspense that I now -endure, or plunge me 
still deeper into misery ; since yesterday I have scarcely uttered a 
word in his presence ; I have religiously adhered to the resolution 
that I would not touch upon a subject that has so filled me with 
conflicting emotions ; but to-day, in an hour, I shall know the 
worst ; and if he be the guilty one that I am madly certain he is, 
his friends and the world shall know how I have been wronged, 
and for what purpose I have assembled them here, {produces a 
letter) Were it not for tokens like these, I should almost think 
that I had ceased to charm — had ceased to be looked upon even 
with interest, by the meanest of earth's creatures ; here is one 
that tells me he loves me ; my husband once told me so, but then I 
was younger and had a free heart to give ; that now, alas, is gone 
forever ; here is one who offers me wealth — splendor and affection 
— if I will forsake a husband that slights me — that torments and 
maddens me — what shall I do ? I have now the means of revenge 
— of a full and bold revenge. Shall I use them but to awe my 
husband, or shall I listen, and so make him rue the day that he 
first roused my jealousy '^. But he may not be guilty — this girl 
may have no claim on him — beyond one of compassion or kind- 
ness. I may have suspected wrongly, and he may still have a 
lingering love for me, that may one day revive in all its early 
strength ; and then, were I to know him innocent, and myself the 
only guilty one, I should go mad — should die — should — oh, heaven, 
help me ! 

She falls, exhausted by her feelings, in a chair ; Mr. and 
Mrs. Dove heard l. 

Mrs. Dove. Now, my dear Henry, mind your behavior. 

Mrs. Ly. Ah ! those people have arrived ; my husband has 
neither seen them, nor heard of their having been here. I shall 
watch him well when they first meet. 

Enter Mr. and Mrs. Dove, l. 

Mrs. Dove. Good day to you, madam — I hope you find your- 
self in perfect health ? 

Dove, {bowing) Good day, madam, feel yourself pretty well ? 
Mrs. Dove. Henry, my dear, silence. 



MARRIED LIFE, -^l 

^' 

Mrs. Ly. I am obliged to you for being so faithful to your 
promise. 

Mrs. Dove. 'Tis the height of ill-manners to disappoint one's 
friends in an invite to dinner. 

Dove. And very stupid too, to refuse wittles. 

Mrs. Dove. Henry, my dear 

Dove. My darling, you never will let me talk. 

Mrs. Dove. Not till you know how, my love. 

Dove. But my dear, if you don't let me practise, how am I 
ever to /;/quire the art ? 

Mrs. Dove, y^rquire, verb active, to gain ; /;^quire, verb 
neuter, to ask questions ; acquire the art. 

Dove. Acquire the hart ? 

Mrs. Dove. Don't aspirate, love. 

Dove. Oh, bother, dear. 

Mrs. Ly. Let me beg of you not to allude to this young person 
till after dinner, I will then lead the conversation to that subject ; 
and then I hope you will freely and truly state all that you may 
know respecting her. 

Enter Lynx, r. 

Lynx. Emmeline, I — {seeing Dove and his wife) What ! the 
mystery is now clear, that woman has traced me, has told my 
wife, but my secret is safe. 

Mrs. Dove. Ah, Mr. Lynx, how d'ye do ? surprised to see me 
here no doubt ? 

Lynx. No, madam, no. 

Mrs. Dove. 'Tis some time since we met. 

Lynx. Almost a year, I think. 

Dove. Eleven months ! I ought to know, because we warn't 
united when Mr. Lynx used to give me half a crown for 

Mrs. Dove. Henry 

Mrs. Ly. I was informed that you knew these good people, (to 
Lynx.) 

Lynx. Oh yes, my dear, they are my very old friends. 

Mrs. Ly. Then I am happy in being the cause of renewing a 
friendship that seems so warm on either side ; come Mr. Dove, 
lead me to the dining-room, our friends have arrived, no doubt. 
Mr. Dove, will you favor me with your arm ? 

Dove. Eh ! (looking confused at his wife) What am I to do .'* 

Mrs. Dove. Give Mrs. Lynx your arm. 

Mrs. Ly. Lionel, will you bring Mrs. Dove ? 

Lynx, {offering his arm to MRS. DoVE) Certainly. 

Dove, {leading off Mrs. Lynx, L.)Well, I declare, this is 
genteel life. 

Mrs. Dove. Thank 3^ou, sir, you are very kind. 

Lynx leads off Mrs, Dove, l. ; Coddle looks on, r., quite 
pale. 



32 MARRIED LIFE, 

Cod. I have been running all over the house to look for Lynx, 
— I thought I heard his voice here — how I tremble ! he must 
know that Mr. and Mrs. Dismal have seen that wretched woman — 
though they have promised secrecy, yet I cannot expect they will 
be always silent. 

Re-enter Lynx, l. 

Oh, my friend ! I have been looking for you — they are all at 
dinner, but I can't eat in the state of mind I am in. Mr. and 
Mrs. Dismal saw you talking to her. 

Lynx. To whom ? 

Cod. The elderly lady in black. 

Lynx. They did ! 

Cod. Don't — don't look so astonished, you frighten me. 

Lynx. They surely will not talk of it ? 

Cod. They have promised to be secret, but what will be my 
feelings, in their presence ! — when either of them speaks, I shall 
die with apprehension. 

Lynx. Leave it to me ; we will see this woman to-morrow, 
and make some arrangement with her. 

Cod. I'll say anything — do anything — give anything — only 
conceal the affair from my wife. 

Lynx. Depend upon me, and be at peace. But be sure you do 
not equivocate in the question of this girl. The school-mistress 
with whom she lived is now here — at my very table. Remember ! 
I, at your request placed the girl under her care. 

Cod. Yes. 

Lynx. Because you did not dare confess to your wife that you 
had incurred such a responsibility, — but now you are anxious to 
acknowledge her. 

Cod. What will Mary say ? 

Lynx. Remember, you have sworn it. 

Cod. I have, but tell me — who is this girl ? 

Lynx. That is a mystery that I dare not disclose, even to you. 

Cod. Bless me ! what two reprobates we are. 

Lynx. Come to the drawing-room, I must make some excuse 
for your leaving the table. Now, be bold. 

Cod. Yes, yes. 

Lynx. Do not equivocate. 

Cod. No, no. 

Lynx. On your moral courage depends your own safety, and 
my happiness. 

Cod. I know it, I know it. 

Lynx. And the least appearance of timidity may ruin us ; now 
are you ready ? 

Cod. Wait a moment, (buttoning his coat up to his throat 
with great resolution ) 



m 



MARRIED LIFE. ^ 

* 
When I expect to be excited, I like to be guarded against taking 
cold — against the effects of draughts and currents of air. My 
courage is rising— it's up — now I'm ready — give me your arm — 
there, look at me ! Did you ever see a finer illustration of des- 
perate courage ? Never. — Now to the field of action — to mortal 
strife — and death or victory. 

(Exit, dragging off iJ^^Y., L.) 

Scene m. — A drawing-room. All the party are discovered. 
Coddle occupies theK. corner, in an easy chair j Mrs. Lynx 
is seated beside hiiJt ; next to her is Mr. Younghusband and 
Mr. Dismal; Mrs. Dove ^;/^ Mr. Lynx sit together, Mrs. 
Dismal fiext to him ; then Mrs. Coddle a7id Mrs. Young- 
husband ; Mr. Dove occupies the L. corner. 

All. {but Coddle and Lynx) Astonishing ! to keep the mat- 
ter a secret so long. Strange ! strange ! 

Lynx. Now, let us drop the subject. Mrs. Coddle, I trust that 
you will not respect or love your husband the less for this late 
disclosure "t 

Mrs. Cod. Oh, no, no ; I merely feel hurt that he should have 
thought it necessary to have concealed the circumstance. Had 
I been a violent, jealous, bad-tempered woman, there might 
have been some cause for secresy ; but as everybody knows 
what a kind, indulgent creature I really am, he might have made 
me his confidant, and the poor girl should have been brought 
home. Where is she now ? 

Lynx- Quite safe, depend upon it ; I will explain all at another 
opportunity. 

Mrs. Ly. {aside) Falsehood, all falsehood, I'm convmced ! 

Lynx, {to his ivife) Now% my dear, I trust you are perfectlv 
satisfied ; and in this instance, I hope, you will confess that 3^ou 
were in error. 

Mrs. Ly. Certainly, as I have no opposing evidence of the 
veracity of your stor^- ; though, still, I think it very — very strange, 
that you should have so troubled yourself on Mr. Coddle's ac- 
count ; if Were a mere act of friendship, the most famed heroes 
of antiquity have been surpassed. 

Cod. Ha ! ha I now I feel happy ; now my mind is at ease, 
and I'll be comfortable. How that Mrs. Dismal fixes her eyes on 
me ! Now fill your glasses ; Mr. Dove, take care of your lady. 

Dove. Yes, yes. {a k^iock a7id ri?ig heard.) 

Lynx. Some arrival. {povY. jumps up, and runs off, L.) 

Mrs. Dove, {starting up) Henr)% come back. I declare the 
man has gone to the door. Henr}- ! 

Dove re-enters, L. 

Dove. The door is opeiied ; there's an individual 



I 



34 MARRIED UFE, 

Mrs. Dove. Sit down, my dear, sit down. 

Dove, {aside) I never shall get over answering the door when 
a knock comes, {voices heard without in altercation.) 

A voice. You mistake ; you do, indeed ! You mistake. 

Cod. {apprehensively) What is it.'* 

Dove. An individual 

Mrs Dove. Silence, Henry ! 

Mrs. Ly. (rising) The servant is in altercation with some one 
at the door ; who can it be '^. 

Lynx, {rising) Ring the bell. 

Mrs. Ly. No, no, I'll go myself. 

Cod. 1 have a horrid presentiment of evil ; a moment since I 
was glowing like a furnace, with joy ; and now I freeze again 
with terror. 

Mrs. Cod. What's the matter, dear, do you feel cold ? 

Cod. Yes — yes, ugh ! [shuddering) 

Mrs. Cod. And I'm dying for air, 

Mrs. Y. So am I, Mrs. Coddle. 

Young. I am sure you are not. 

Mrs. Y. I am. 

Dismal. Shall I open the folding doors .^ 

Cod. No — no ! 

Dove. I feel very languishing, 

Mrs. Dove. Henry ! languid. 

Dove. Languid I — how she does take me up before people. 
(aside) 

Cod. Hush ! here's Mrs. Lynx. 

Mrs. lynx re-enters, a letter in her hand. CoDDLE regards 
her with anxiety, MRS. Lynx is trembling with agitation, 

Mrs. Ly. It was — it was as I suspected, a black falsehood. 

Lynx. What is the matter t 

Cod. I shall fall flat on the floor, something is going to hap- 
pen. 

Mrs. Ly. {to Lynx) Restrain your curiosity, sir ; you will 
know all in a moment ; there is a lady below. 

Cod. I thought so. 

Mrs. Ly. An elderly lady in black. 

Cod. I'm a dead man. {falling back in his chair, in utter 
despair) 

Mrs. Ly. She tells me that her name is Coddle 

Mrs. Cod, {starting up) What ! 

Mrs. Ly. {pointing' to Coddle) And that she is that man's wife. 

Cod. (groaning) Oh ! I wish I could vanish through the floor. 

Mrs. Ly. This letter is for you, madam. 

Mrs. Cod. For me ! {she tears the letter open, a inarriage 
certificate falls on the floor) What is this 1 Oh, I can't read it 



MARRIED LIFE, 35 

— I shall faint— I have no power to read ; pray take it, some one 
— Mr. — anybody — pray read it. {she holds out the letter, Dove 
takes it) 

All. {but Coddle a7id Mrs. Dove) Read it, Mr. Dove. 

Dove. I — I can't read. 

Mrs. Dove. Henry — How can you so expose yourself ? 

Dove. You read it, ma'am. (^/t/Vw^/Z^ Mrs.Younghusband) 

Mrs. Y. Shall I read it, Mrs. Coddle ? 

Mrs. Cod. Yes, yes, aloud — aloud — let the whole world hear it. 

Mrs. Y. {reading) " Madam, the writer of this is an injured 
woman. The monster 

Cod. That's me — oh — 

Mrs. Y. " The monster to whom you are married has another 
wife. I am that person ; the enclosed is a copy of my marriag-e 
certificate ; 'tis dated twenty years back. My object in coming 
to England is to claim a maintenance, and expose the villain. 
•' Your obedient servant, 

" Belvidera Coddle." 

All. Bless me ! Dear, dear, dear ! What a wretch — what a 
monster ! 

Mrs. Ly. The poor woman had better be asked up. 

Cod. {springing from his chair) No, no ! I'd sooner face a 
thousand fiends than look once again on that dreadful being. 
My dear, my love ! {to his wife) You don't know what I have 
suffered — what I have endured, through that woman ! In the 
first place, I was decoyed — trapped. She left me. I once thought 
she was dead ; but 

Mrs. Cod. {rising with dignity) Silence, Samuel ! You have 
deceived me. I could have pardoned anything but this. As to 
the subject of the poor girl, that you have stated belongs to you, 
that I freely forgave. 

Mrs. Ly. {violently) 'Tis false, Mrs. Coddle ! I asked the 
question of the bearer of that letter. I thought that she might 
be the parent of the girl ; but no, no ; your husband has but 
supported mine in a falsehood ; he never had a daughter. And 
you, sir, {to Lynx) are discovered and laid bare ; but I shall 
leave you this day, forever. 

All. Nay, nay. 

Mrs. Cod. And I shall quit my wretch, {she advances to 
Coddle, who buries his face i7i his hands) From this moment, 
sir, we separate. Go to your w^ife, the woman who lawfully 
claims you, and never look me in the face again. We were an 
ill-assorted pair from the first ; but your affected apathy is now 
accounted for ; it arose from an evil conscience. Cold-hearted, 
deliberate deceiver ! farewell forever ! (Mrs. Coddle rushes 
out, L.) 

Cod. Mary, come back ; come back ; hear me. {he runs to 



36 MARRIED LIFE, 

the L., but suddenly stops) I dare not follow her ; I shall meet 
the other. No, no ; I must fly ; I must leave the country ; 
'tis now no home for me. 

Lynx. Sit still, my friend ; be composed. 

Cod. I can't ; I'll leave the house ; I'll Ah, this door — 

(jpointing ^.) — leads to the canal; I'll drown myself; I'm des- 
perate enough ; the sun has been on the water all day, so I've 
nothing to fear ; I am resolved upon my course— felo-de-se, 
nothing else. Adieu, my friends ; I'm a discovered, a guilty 
monster ; and this is the last time that you will ever see the dis- 
tracted, wretched, Samuel Coddle. (Coddle rushes off'K.) 

Young, [starting up) The man will drown himself. 

Mrs. Y. No he won't ; sit still ; you'll only make matters 
worse. 

Dis. Sit still all of you ; I know him ; when he comes in sight 
of the water, his courage will cool ; sit still. 

Mrs. Dove. Shall my dear Dove follow him ? 

Dove. I can't swim, duck ! 

Dis. No, no ; sit still. 

Mrs. Ly. {who has kept her eyes fixed on her husband 
throughout the scene) What, sir ; not a word .^ ^^^7^ confounded ? 

Lynx. Emmeline ! {rising) Appearances, I confess, are against 
me ; but you know not all. You know not the cause which 
compels me to this course ; be patient. 

Mrs. Ly. I have been patient long enough, and will endure no 
more ; this is the last moment that I pass under your roof. 

Lynx. Are you mad .^ will you hear me .'* 

Mrs. Ly. No, sir. 

Lynx. If you once quit the house, we never meet again. 

Mrs. Ly. That is my wish. ^ 

Lynx. Be warned ; — if you leave me now — it must — it shall be 
forever. 

Mrs. Ly. It is, sir, forever, {rushes out, L. — all the company 
rise) 

Lynx. Nay, nay, keep your seats, my friends ; keep your seats. 
I will not have a soul stir a foot to expostulate with her ; let her take 
her own course. I have been in error, I confess ; but not to the ex- 
tent that she supposes ; her causeless jealousies — her unceasing 
suspicions have wearied me, and she is free to go ; pray do not 
be disturbed on my account ; make yourselves happy ; I am 
sorry that our meeting should have ended thus ; but my wife is 
to blame ; she would not hear — would not listen tome ; and now. 
{aside) I leave this house, never to return. ("Exit, R.) 

Dove. Now he's gone ; shall I follow him, love ? 

Mrs. Dove. No, no ; sit still, dear. 

Mrs. Y. Call him back ! Mr. Lynx ! (calling) he'll do himself 
a mischief — I know he will. 



MARRIED LIFE. yj 

Young. He won't ; sit still ; if you follow and torment him as 
you do me sometimes, you will, indeed, drive him to desperation. 

Mrs. Y. /follow and torment you, sir 1 

Young. You do — often — often. 

Mrs. Y. You're an agg-ravating man, and 

Mrs. Dove, {rising) Nay, nay ; dear, dear ; pray don't get to 
words — my darling, Henry, hand that lady some wine ; sit still, 
there's a dear, [to Mrs. Younghusband) Emulate Mr. Dove 
and me, we never utter a cross word to each other — do we, dear ? 

Dov. No, love. (handing wine to Mrs. YOUNGHUSBAND.) 

Mrs. Y. Take it away, sir, I don't want wine. Oh, sir, you 
need not sit there looking so fierce, (to Younghusband.) I was 
certain we should have a disagreement before the day was out ; 
you contradicted me about my silver thimble — you insisted that 
aunt Sarah gave it me. 

Young. So she did. 

Mrs. Y. She didn't — 'twas uncle Tolloday gave it me. 

Young. 'Twas aunt Sarah, 

Mrs. Y. Uncle Tolloday. 

Young. You're a provoking woman. 

Mrs. Y. You're a hideous man. 

Young. I'm going home. 

Mrs. Y. I am not. I shall never go home any more. 

Young. That won't break my heart. 

Mrs. Y. Your heart ! you never had one. 

Young. I had once. 

Mrs. Y. Never. 

Young. You drive me to madness ! I shall go home ; and I 
can only tell you, madam, since you threaten me, that whtnyou 
arrive there you will receive no welcome from me. 

Mrs. Y. Do you mean that 1 

Young. I do. {he rushes off, R.) 

Mrs. Y. Then I'll go to my aunt Sarah ; — he shall never see 
me again, the aggravating creature. How I could ever marry 
him, I can't think ! It was uncle Tolloday that gave me the silver 
thimble — I know it was ; but he will contradict me. He does it 
on purpose to vex me — and oppose me — and worry me — and 
break my heart ; but I'll go this moment to my aunt's, and I'll 
never — never set foot in his house again. (Exit, L.) 

Mrs. Dove. Dear, dear ! what wretched lives some people do 
lead, don't they, love. 

Dove. Yes, dear. 

Mrs. Dis. {to DiSMAL.) Just like you brutes of men — it's quite 
heart-breaking to see how we poor creatures are treated ! 

Dis. What is it to you ; nobody ill-treats you. 

Mrs. Dis. You do ; I've been sitting here for this hour, and 
you have never spoken a word to me. 



1^ 



38 MARRIED LIFE, 

Dis. I had nothing to say. 

Mrs. Dis. And though you know how fond I am of the wing 
of a fowl, you would send me a leg at dinner. 

Dis. You women always want the wing. 

Mrs. Dis. I'm a wTetched woman. 

Mrs. Dove. My dear Henry, can't you console poor Mrs. 
Dismal 1 

Dove. Oh yes, love ! have a hapricot, ma'am ? 

Mrs. Dove. An apricot — Henry, dear, you misapply your inde- 
finite article. 

Dove. Do I ? — console the lady yourself, love. 

Mrs. Dis. The fact is — I had no business to marry you. 

Dis. Now you speak the truth, we both ought to have known 
better ; when people have lived single for fifty years, they should 
learn to look on matrimony as a misery they have luckily escaped. 

Mrs. Dis. You need not allude to my age, sir, before people. 

Dis. What does it matter ? who cares how old you are ? you're 
fifty odd — so am I ; and we have been married a year and a half 
— more fool I — more fool you. 

Mrs. Dis. {crosses, L.) I'm going home. 

Dis. Well, go. 

Mrs. Dis. Don't you intend to come with me ! 

Dis. No. 

Mrs. Dis. You're an unkind man, and if we never meet again 
— I sha'n't be sorry. 

Dis. Then the gratification will be mutual. 

Mrs. Dis. Indeed ! I shall take you at your word, sir, (going) 
but, remember all my property is settled on myself. (Exit, L.) 

Dis. Serves me right — after living a bachelor fifty years, I had 
no right to alter my situation, but I'll apply for a divorce — I w^ill 
— 'twill be granted too ; I've an excellent plea — mutual insanity. 

(Exit, R.) 

Dove. Well — now all the people have gone, I've something to 
say — and something that I mean, too ; I won't be taken up, as I 
always am, before people. 

Mrs. Dove. W^hat do you mean, Henry, by being taken up ? 

Dove. Why — altering my pronunciation every minute, as 
you do. 

Mrs. Dove. How can I calmly sit and hear my husband com- 
mit himself in every syllable that he utters } respect for you and 
for myself, renders it necessary that I should correct you. 

Dove. Well, I don't like it — and I warn you not to result me 
again. 

Mrs. Dove. Insult you. 

Dove. Well, insult me again — you know how wiolent I am 
when I'm exaggerated. 

Mrs. Dove. When you're exasperated. 



MARRIED LIFE, 



39 



Dove. Well, what's it matter ! you perfectly compromise my 
meaning. 

Mrs. Dove. Henry — Henry — I will not hear you make use of 
such language. Had I been aware that you were so illiterate — 
I would have broken my heart ere I would have married you 

Dove. Yes — you never used to find fault with my language 
when w^e used to sit under the apple-tree of an evening. 

Mrs. Dove. That I should not have seen the absurdity of unit- 
ing myself with one so opposite to me ! 

Dove. Opposite to you ! — you never would let me be opposite 
to you, you was never easy but when I was by your side ; you 
know you wasn't. 

Mrs. Dove. But love is blind 

Dove. Yes, and deaf too, if I may judge from my own situa- 
tion ; just as if you couldn't have found out my pronunciation 
then as well as now. I know'd there was a great contract be- 
tween us. 

Mrs. Dove. Contrast ! besides, you are so stupid ; you could 
not during dinner, hear a bell or a knock at the door, but you 
must be running to answer it. I sat on thorns for you. 

Dove. Well, then, that was werry kind of you. I wouldn't do 
such a thing for my father ; but don't call me stupid — if you talk 
of bad language, what's that, I wonder ? Good-bye ! — you won't 
see me again, in a hurry. 

Mrs. Dove. Where are you going ? 

Dove. I don't know where I am going, nor I don't care ; 
you've wounded me in a tender//;//. 

Mrs. Dove. Point ! 

Dove. Point ! and I do not care if I never see you again. 

Mrs. Dove. {taki?ig his ha^id) Henr)' 1 

Dove. Let go my hand, Martha ; I mean what I say ; and 
don't follow me, because I won't be follow'd. 

Mrs. Dove. You cannot intend to be so base ? 

Dove. I do — you've put me in a passion, and when I am in a 
passion I'm dissolute. (Exit, R.) 

Mrs. Dove. Resolute! {calling after him) Cruel Henry ! I 
shall faint— Help 1 Henry !_Water ! oh ! oh ! 

{she faints in a chair and the drop falls,) 

END OF ACT II. 



40 MARRIED LIFE , 



ACT III. 

Scene I — A 7neanly furnished room, A knock heard at L. D. ; 
after a pause, QoT>T>i.i^ peeps out of the door in flat, 

Codr-Who can that be ? I told the woman of the house on no 
account to admit a soul, or to tell any one who had taken her 
rooms ; but if she should be obliged to confess, to give out that 
a half-crazy gentleman occupies them, who will not allow a 
creature to approach him but herself. I think I am safe here, 
nobody knows me ; I've changed my name, I have paid a month's 
rent in advance, have closed and fastened the shutters and door, 
and intend to live in future by candle-light ; so here I am alone 
{sitting in a chair) with two wives claiming me, yet alone, that's 
something. What a night I have passed ! One minute trembling 
with apprehension, the next with cold ; the loose windows rat- 
tling all night like the chain of a sleepless felon — nothing but 
draughts all over the room, and a corner house too, its edges 
worn away by the wind constantly whistling round it — ugh ! 
{shuddering — a knocking heard, L. D.) It must have been the 
landlady that knocked ; she thought 1 was asleep, no doubt, so 
wouldn't disturb me ; how cold 1 am — there is a terrible wind 
somewhere. This is the most miserable place 1 ever was in, in 
my life ; where can that rush of air come from ! I must find out, 
here's my tow, {going to table) with this and a skewer, I can stop 
every crevice. 

He goes round the roo7n with a lighted candle ; he holds 
it before a crevice in the flat ; the flame of the candle 
waves. 
Ah ! here's the place, a thorough draught, enough to kill me. 
{the candle goes out) It has blown the candle out ; what a hor- 
rid place ! 

He hammers some tow into the crevice j while thus em- 
ployed, a knocking is again heard at the L. D, ; CODDLE 
starts, the ha7nmer falls from his hand. 
Who's there 1 'tis the footstep of a man, it is not the landlady ; 
[he creeps to the L. D., and listens) officers of justice, perhaps, 
who dogged me here, — hush ! 

Listens again ; a loud knock makes him start away from 
the door. 
Shall I answer ? I will — I must — this suspense will drive me mad 
Who — who's there ? 
Lynx, [without) My dear fellow, open the door. 



MARRIED LIFE. 41 

Cod. Oh, it's my excellent friend, Lynx. 

(he runs to the door and unbolts it.) 
Come in, come in, quick, quick. 

Lynx enters j Coddle iminediately closes the door again, 
and bolts it. 

Now, what's the matter ? how did you find me out ? what 
brought you here .? any of the police after me 1 any warrant 
granted ? Speak, speak. 

Lynx. No, no, calm your fears. 

Cod. Was it you that knocked at the door a few minutes 
ago.? 

Lynx. Yes, yes, and I thought you were dead, as I could get 
no reply. You are as difficult to come at as a grand sultan. 

Cod. I am a grand sultan. I rejoice in a plurality of wives. 
Oh, that Turkey, what a blessed country ! where bigamy is a 
virtue, and a man's consequence is rated not by the number of 
voices he can command in parliament, but by the number of 
wives he can command at home. But tell me, how did you dis- 
cover my retreat ? 

Lynx. You certainly could not expect to remain here un- 
known. 

Cod. Why ? 

Lynx. The house not only belongs to an inspector of the 
police, but a Bow-street officer occupies the floor above you. 

Cod. Oh ! I am a doomed man. (falling into his chair) 

Lynx. The woman of the house gave me your whole history, 
when I called a quarter of an hour ago. I expect two or three 
of our friends here in a moment. Dismal, I have left at the 
door. 

Cod. Which do you think the easiest method of quitting life ? 

Lynx. Quitting life ! 

Cod. Aye, of committing suicide ? — hanging, poisoning, suf- 
focation, drowning, or the pistol ? For to one of these escapes 
from my terrors, I am determined to apply. 

Lynx. Then you have not seen your wife ? 

Cod. Which? 

Lynx. Your second. 

Cod. Not since we parted at your house yesterday. I can 
never face her again. How is Mrs. Lynx ? 

Lynx. She has left me. 

Cod. Left you ? 

Lynx. I am now in search of her, for this morning I have 
received intelligence that leaves me at liberty to confess more 
respecting the girl than I have hitherto dared to tell. 

Cod. That girl ! My adopted daughter, you mean ? 

Lynx. I do ; to this alone is my wife indebted for my seeking 



42 MARRIED LIFE. 

her. I would rather have died, than have been the first to 
advance one step towards a reconciliation, after her deliberate 
attempt yesterday at publicly exposing me. 

(a knock heard again at L. D.) 

Cod. There's somebody else, who can it be t 

Lynx. 'Tis no doubt, Dismal, our brother in misfortune. 

Cod. Misfortune ! 

Lynx. He and his wife have also separated. Indeed, I hear 
that of the whole party of married people that sat down to my 
table yesterday, not one couple are now living together. 

Cod. They found my example so very pleasant, I suppose that 
they could not resist following it. {knocking again.) 

Young, {without) Open the door, we wish to see you. 
(Lynx unbolts the door — Younghusband and DiSiMAL enter.) 

Young, {to Coddle) Ah, my friend, we have found you out 
at last. 

Dis. Mr. Dove is below, and wants to see you. 

Cod. He sha'n't come in ; I won't have any more visitors. I 
came here to conceal myself, and here is my whole circle of 
acquaintances around me already ; well, sit down, sit down, as 
you are here, (they all sit) What poor unhappy wretches we all 
are ! 

Young. For my own part, I freely confess that I never was 
more miserable in all my days, and really begin to think that a 
wife is an indispensable comfort. 

Cod. Where you've but one. *Tis a comfort so peculiarly 
singular, that once pluralized, it is destroyed. 

Dis. I had no idea that a restless night, by myself, could have 
made me think so favorably of Mrs. Dismal. 

Lynx. Ah, my friends, absence, like death, leads us to dwell 
on the better qualities of those that are away. 

Cod. And the heart that can then but refer to faults, is one of 
which w^e ought to be ashamed. If the second Mrs. Coddle had 
but consulted my comforts a little more than she did, and not 
look'd for raptures and passions in one who had them not in his 
nature — she would have been a divinity. 

Young. My wife's great fault is her perpetual proneness for 
contradiction ; were she to qualify her opposition, by presuming 
that I mistake, or by merely thinking that I am wrong, I should 
be satisfied ; but her flat contradictions on every subject are 
unbearable, and I won't put up with it ; she sometimes makes 
me quite furious, zounds ! 

Dis. My wife's great defect is her want of cheerfulness ; and 
expecting me every moment to be petting her like a Dutch pug. 
I can't fondle and be continually my dearing ; my amiable moments 
are periodical. 

Cod. We are all wretched creatures and I'm the most wretched 



MARRIED LIFE. 43 

among you ; you may be reconciled some day or other, but for 
me — 1 am without hope, {knocking at the door, L. D.) Hush ! — 
who's there ? {going to the door.) 

Dove, {without) It's me. 

Cod. Who? 

Dove. Mr. H. Dove. 

Cod. You can't come in. 

Dove. I want to speak to Mr. Coddle, on a pint of vast pro- 
fni7ience to him. 

Dis. I forgot to tell you he was asking for you when I came up ; 
he says that he has something to relate respecting your first wife. 

Cod. What can it be .^ Shall I let him in 1 

Lynx. Yes, yes. 

QoT>v>\.Y. opens the door j Dove enters ; Coddle closes the 
door again, and bolts it. 

Dove. Ha ! how d'ye do, gentlemen all ? We meet again, 
under very conspicious circumstances. 

Cod. Sit down, sir. (^placing a chair, and goi^tg to his seat.) 

Dove. We're all bachelors again, I hear ; I ain't seen Mrs. 
Dove since yesterday ; she worked upon my feelings, and as- 
pirated me to that degree, that I went and got cuininy fo ; and 
now I am afraid to go home. 

Cod. Well, sir ! this information — 

Dove. Yes, sir, — but first allow me to collect my loose memor- 
andums. My head's a little circumfused. 

Lynx. Proceed, sir, I beg ; consider Mr. Coddle's anxiety. 

Dove. Well then — you must know — yesterday— after you had 
all gone, Mrs. D. exaggerated me to such a pitch, that I flew out 
of the house — never intending to be united again. 

Cod. Well! 

Dove. As I was rushing through the streets — resolved to do as 
I liked — and talk as I liked, and to remove every obelisk that 
stood in my way of so doing, who should I run against but a lady 
in black 

Cod. {starting up) Ah ! 

Lynx. Sit still, and hear him out. 

Dove. Bless me, says./, why, ma'am, I know you ; pray ain*t 
^Ye united by ties of iniquity ? She looked at me — 1 looked at 
her, and she became mutilated to the spot 

Cod. Go on, go on. 

Dove. Aunt, says I — 

Cod. Aunt ! 

Dove. Aunt, says I — ain't you afraid of being exercised, and 
taken before the conjugal authorities "i 

Cod. For what ? tell me for what ? 

All. Hush, hush ! Silence. 



44 MARRIED LIFE. 

Lynx. Proceed, Mr. Dove. 

Dove. Henry, says she, I am here on a matter that demands 
me to be very circujnflex, and 1 beg you will not make known to 
any one that you have met me. Aunt, says I — I owe you a 
grudge ; do you remember how you used to use me, when I 
cleaned the boots in that family where you was cook ? 

Cod. Lord ! cook ? Go on. 

Dove. But to alleviate a long story, suffice it to say — that I 
found out she calls herself 

Cod. Mrs. Samuel Coddle ! 

Dove. Yes ; she went out to the West Indies, in a doctor's 
family, on account of some unlawful willanies. She went to 
Antigua 

Cod. True. 

Dove. And changed her name 

Cod. Changed her name ! To what — to what ? 

Dove. To — I forget — Bel 

Cod. Belvidera Montemar ? 

Dove. That's it. 

Cod. Then her real name was 

Dove. Jane Hobbs. 

Cod. Huzza, huzza ! — an illegal marriage ! Fm free — it can 
be put aside ! It can be put aside ! Tol de rol lol. {Jancing) 
You hear, she was obliged to leave the country ; she imposed 
upon me ; she's left me ; she's here but to annoy me — but I'm 
free. Lynx unbolt the door, and let me out. (Lynx unbolts the 
door) Mr. Dove, let me collar you ; you shall never leave me till 
I have seen and satisfied the lawful Mrs. Coddle. You are my 
witness, and must come to your aunt and then to my wife ; follow 
us, my dear friends — follow us ; seek your wives and be recon- 
ciled ; I'll set you the example. Don't attempt to get away from 
me ; {to DovE) you are my best friend, and I shall never quit my 
hold of you. I wouldn't part with you for a million of money. 
My dear friend, my preserver, my everything on earth to me — 
come with me to your aunt, to Belvidera — never mind hat, coat, 
anything. My dear, my only Mrs. Coddle, open your arms, and 
receive your husband, and his friend, {rushing out, L. D., a7id 
dragging Dove with him by the collar.) 

Lynx, {calling after him) Coddle, my dear fellow, where are 
you running ? — let us follow him, my friends and assist each 
other in search of our wives, and do our best to obtain mutual 
forgiveness. (Exit, LYNX, L. D.) 

Dis. I won't — IVe been used very ill — I walked before my 
house for an hour this morning, and though Mrs. D. was seated 
at the window, she wouldn't turn her head to notice me. 

Young. Where my wife can be I am at a loss to guess. Not 



I 



MARRIED LIFE. 45 

at her aunt's ; I have been there, and they have not seen her. I 
am getting quite distracted. 

Di3. So am I. 

Young. Then give me your arm ; if you won't go home to 
your wife you must and shall help me to regain mine. It is a 
man's duty, sir, to advance the first step toward a reconcilia- 
tion. 

Dis. I have advanced. 

Young. You have not. 

Dis. Didn't I walk in to the house ? 

Young. No. 

Dis. I did, and I won't go again. 

Young. You shall. If you don't know your duty, I'll teach it 
you. Come, sir, come. 

(Exit YOUNGHUSBAND dragging off T^YSylll PA., L. D.) 

Scene II. — A Roo7n at a Boarding House. 

Enter Mrs. Lynx, followed by Mrs. Coddle, Mrs. Young- 
husband, Mrs. Dismal, and Mrs. Dove, r. i e. 

Mrs. Cod. {to Mrs. Dismal) The unhappy creature, Mrs. 
Belvidera Coddle, is lodging here, you tell me } 

Mrs. Dis. Yes, 'twas at the door of this house that I saw Mr. 
Lynx talking to her yesterday. 

Mrs. Cod. As she is not within, I shall look in again. I am re- 
solved to see her, for the more I reflect, the more 1 am incensed 
against my husband. Oh I I am wretched woman. 

Mrs. Ly. Indeed, I am. 

Mrs. Dove. So am L 

Mrs. Dis. So am L 

Mrs. Y. I'm completely miserable — miserable. 

Mrs. Cod. I went home, but Coddle never came near the 
house ; he has absconded, no doubt ; I did not close my eyes all 
night. 

Mrs. Dove. I have been in a state of perfect distraction since 
my unhappy disagreement with Henry — where can he have 
gone ? 

Mrs, Y. I would not go to my aunt — I changed my mind, 
called on Mrs. Dismal, and sat up with her, I am determined 
not to return home till Frederick fetches me ; it was Uncle Tol- 
loday that gave me that thimble. 

Mrs. Dis. If you had not come to me, Mrs. Y., I should have 
died before morning ; as it is, Mr. D.'s cruel indifference has 
worn me to a shade. 

Mrs. Cod. Indifference ! I'm sure the apathy of my husband 
was never equalled ; I have flirted with a dozen young men in 



46 MARRIED LIFE. 

one evening to excite him to a little harmless jealousy, but in 
vain, and I really think, he would neither have stirred, nor cared, 
had I eloped with three captains at once. And now to discover 
that he has another wife ! Oh ! if 1 could see him again — I think 
I should assassinate him ! a monster ! a — eh ! {sobbing) 

Mrs. Dis. Just like my Dismal ; when we go into company, 
he always gets as far away from me as he can ; never notices 
me — never smiles at me — never looks as if he loved me. I — I — 
I am a very illused woman, [sobbing) 

Mrs. Y. {sobbing) Don't weep, Mrs. Dismal ; don't weep ; I 
won't, if — if — I break my heart. Y. sha'n't say that I ever 
dropped a tear at his absence — the aggravating creature ; though 
I could be comfortable with him, if he would not contradict me 
in everything I say — and do — and — and — oh ! {crying) 

Mrs. Dove, {sobbing) Oh, Henry ! — once reconciled, I will 
never correct you again ; you may select your own words from 
any dictionary you may think proper. 

Mrs. Ly. {^sobbing) My wretched fate is fixed ; I have suffered 
beyond the bounds of endurance, and can suffer no more. 

Mrs. Cod. My friends ! — ladies ! — bless me, we are all in tears ! 
this must not be ; what would our husbands say if they knew of 
our weakness ? No, no — we must not break our hearts for such 
creatures ; we must rally and laugh. Ha ! ha ! ha ! laugh, 
ladies, laugh ! and make your arrangements for the future with 
resolution and spirit. You, Mrs. Lynx, will, I presume, for the 
present lodge here. I shall now step to my friend's and return 
in half an hour. Mrs. Dove, you are a sensible and well-edu- 
cated woman ; pray accompany me, and give me your advice ! 
we may hear of Mr. Dove while we are gone. Mrs. Y., you, of 
course, will stay with Mrs. Dismal for the present. Good-bye 
my dears, good-bye ! Now, pray, don't fret ; be women — be 
women — don't weep about a man. What are men ? — mere self- 
elected law makers. Don't despair, ladies ; the time is fast 
coming when we shall have voices in the legislation of the coun- 
try, and then let them look to their questions. The wrong-s done 
to our sex for centuries, shall be well revenged in the first ses- 
sion. (Exit with Mrs. Dove, l.) 

Mrs. Y. Good-bye, Mrs. Lynx ; if you wish to see us, we are 
only next door to you, you know. And pray, if you hear any- 
thing of our husbands, apprize us immediately, and we will do 
ihe same for you. {taking MRS. Dismal's arm) Now, if Mr. 
Dismal passes the house again, I will call him in. 

Mrs. Dis. No, no ; you shall not. 

Mrs. Y. I will. 

Mrs. Dis. I won't hear of it. 

Mrs. Y. I'm not used to contradict, but you must. Though I 



MARRIED LIFE. 47 

am wretched, if I can assist in restoring happiness to others, 
Mrs. Frederick Younghusband is not the woman to be idle in 
such a matter. So come, dear D., smile and look pleasant ! 

(Exit, with Mrs. Dismal, l.) 
Mrs. Ly. {alone) Now, what course shall 1 take ? — that my 
husband is guilty, I have abundant proof — and that 1 can never, 
never live with him again, is equally sure. I have sought a re- 
fuge here, in a miserable lodging-house ; for where had I to go ? 
Where could an outraged and homeless wife seek for shelter ? 
with friends — with relations ? No, no ; I could not endure that 
bitter humiliation. If 1 am to be wretched, it shall be unseen 
and alone ; I'll have no cold and affected sympathy — no pity from 
my kindred. Pity ! there is no such feeling ! 'tis disguised 
triumph, and we know it too ; else why does the soul rise up 
within us and spurn it ? (looking offK. I E.) Ah, he here I the 
writer of the letter I received yesterday ? then he has traced me 
to this house. What shall I do ? he must not see me. Hark ! 
{listens) he is making inquiries concerning me ; how shall I 
avoid him ? To retaliate upon my husband. I affected to en- 
courage that man, and he thus presumes upon it. But now, 
though I shall never return again to my home, I must avoid all 
that would make me cease to respect myself — I'll to my room. 

(Exit, R. I E.) 

Enter LYNX, L. 

Lynx. I have been rightly informed, my wife is here. Now 
that I have no further occasion for secrecy, she shall know all ; 
and if I can awaken her to a sense of the mischiefs that will arise 
from a too w^atchful jealousy, I will henceforth pursue that line 
of conduct which must and shall ensure happiness, (he is going, 
)R.) What ! who is that .^ (looki^ig off) He speaks to my wife — 
she repulses him — he follows her, the villain ! (LYNX rushes 
offR. Coddle is heard without, l.) 

Cod. Come along, Dove, come along ; my wafe is here. Come 
my best friend — my preserver. 

Enter Coddle, dragging Dove ; Dove's coat is torn, 

and he strives in vain to release hi7ns elf fr 0771 

the grasp ^Coddle. 

Cod. Huzza ! huzza ! you've told the truth, Dove— you've 
told the truth — Belvidera has retreated and left me master of the 
field. Be grateful, you villain, be grateful. She would have torn 
your eyes out, murdered you, had it not been for me. 

Dove. But, Mr. Coddle, my coat is separating ; let me go. 

Cod. No, no, I must now introduce you to my wife. Where 
is she ? Mrs. Coddle ! (calli7ig) Mrs. Coddle I They told me 



48 MARRIED LIFE. 



\ 



she was here ; where are you, my dear, where are you ? She 
can't be in the house ; then we'll run all over London but we'll 
find her. Come, Dove, my friend, my preserver come. 

Dove. Oh, Mr. Coddle, let me go, let me go. 

Cod. No, no, I'll never part with my witness ; come, you de- 
lightful fellow, come, you shall never leave me till I am restored 
to happiness. (Coddle during the foregoing exclamations ^ has 
dragged Dove round the stage and goes off with him again, L.) 

Scene III. — A gallery in the Boarding House, Lynx 
heard within. 

Lynx, {within) Villain ! Villain ! what do you here ? {a noise 
as of a struggle ; a scream heard) I am unarmed, or you should 
not leave this alive ; come, Emmeline, come with me. 

Enter Lynx, dragging out his wife ; she is pale and agitated. 

Mrs. Ly. Ah, Lionel — is it you, is it you ? Oh, bless you, bless 
you. {taking his hands — he places her in a chair) I have 
brought this upon myself. 

Lynx. But you are safe ; and who has saved you ? 

Mrs. Ly. {falling on his neck) My husband ! 

Lynx. Stay you here, I will follow him and have revenge. 

Mrs. Ly. {clinging to him) Nay, nay, I implore you, stay near 
me — about me — leave me not again. 

Lynx. But I have now a clue to him, which I will not forsake 
till his heart's blood atones for my injuries. 

Mrs. Ly. Do you know him, that you speak thus ? 

Lynx. I do, indeed. 

Mrs. Ly. Who — and what is he ? 

Lynx. Who? listen, Emmeline; the deceiver of my sister, and 
the father of that girl, through whom we separated and thus 
meet again. 

Mrs. Ly. The father ! 

Lynx. I dared not confess as much before. I was bound, 
sworn to secrecy by my sister ; but her death now makes me 
free to tell you all. 

Mrs Ly. Forgive me — I — I am satisfied. 

Lynx. You shall first know that you have good cause to be so ; 
that villain in early life wronged my sister ; she afterwards mar- 
ried ; had her previous intimacy with this man been known, 
ruin, in the noble sphere in which she moved, must have awaited 
her ; I kept her secret religiously, and, as you know, at the ex- 
pense of my own peace ; I was as a father to the girl ; and 
though she left the asylum in which I placed her, yet 'twas for an 
honorable and a happy marriage. 



r 

I 



MARRIED LIFE, 49 

Mrs. Ly. No more, no more, dear Lionel : I have been a weak 
and foolish woman, but never will I doubt you again. 

Lynx. And never more, dear Emmeline, will 1 give you cause ; 
on the conduct of the husband chiefly rests the virtue of the wife, 
and I here renounce all my follies for ever. But for that 
villain 

Mrs. Ly. Nay, nay, be satisfied, be at peace ; and let mutual 
confidence henceforth secure to us that happiness to which we 
have so long been strangers. 

Lynx. It shall, Emmeline, it shall, {they embrace) 

Enter Mr. and Mrs. Younghusband and Mr. and Mrs. Dis- 
mal, arm in arm, and laughing, Mrs. T>0YE following. 

Mrs. Y. What ! Mr. and Mrs. Lynx, and embracing too : 
then you have explained and made it up, as we have done. 
Well, this is delightful ! Mr. and Mrs. Dismal are friends ; I saw 
him watching his house ; I rushed out — dragged him in. — 
Y., who was with him, followed ; we pouted a little — coquetted 
a little — cried a little — and then rushed into each other's arms ; 
didn't we, Frederick ? 

Young, No, I 

Mrs. Y. Hush ! remember, dear ; you have promised never to 
contradict me again. 

Mrs D. And my George has vowed to be as kind, and as at- 
tentive in future, as 

Dis. As I can. 

Mrs. Y. There is poor Mrs. Dove in an agony about her 
Henry. She left Mrs. Coddle — came to us — was told that her 
husband was in this house — and he is still nowhere to be found. 

Lynx. We heard both he and Mr. Coddle were here not long 
since. 

Dove, {without) Martha ! 

Mrs. Dove. Ah ! I hear his welcome voice. 

Enter Dove, his clothes tor7i to ribbons. 

Dove. Martha ! are you here ? Oh, look at me. 

Mrs. Dove. Henry ! look at me, and forgive me. 

Dove. Forgive you, Martha ! yes, that 1 will, after what I've 
suffered since our abduction. This is all Mr. Coddle's doings ; 
I was his witness, and he wouldn't let me leave him till I had 
seen aunt Hobbs and Mrs. Coddle, in his presence. We have 
seen *em ; aunt Hobbs is gone off again ; and Mr. and Mrs. 
Coddle are coming here with all their differences re-united, 

Mrs. Dove. Your aunt Hobbs ! 



SQ MARRIED LIFE, 

Dove. Don't ask questions now, clear ; when we are alone I'll 
liquidate everything. 

Mrs. Dove. Elucidate ! 

Dove. Now, you are going to begin again, love ! 

Mrs. Dove. No, Henry, 1 forgot myself ; I never shall correct 
you, more, dear. 

Enter Coddle, capering, dressed in a suit of nankeen ; Mrs. 
Coddle, on his arm. 

Cod. Here we are ! here we are ! Belvidera has retreated in 
confusion ; and the conquering hero, with his only lawful wife, 
stands before you in all the conscious pride of innocence, and a 
complete suit of Nankeen. 

All. Nankeen ! 

Cod. Yes ; no lining — no, Mrs. Coddle has heard all — and has 
forgiven all; she is now convinced how I was duped by my 
first wife ; has had proof of her leaving me— of her plundering 
me — of her coming here merely to make a property of me — of the 
illegality of the marriage ; and here we are united and happy 
again ; and there stands my friend and preserver, of whom I 
shall ever think with gratitude, {pointing to Dove) 

Dove. Then allow me to observe, while you were pillaging 
your wardrobe, your gratitude might have jogged your memory 
a little, respecting the condition of your preserver's clothes ; this 
is quite the result of your own exuberance. 

Mrs. Dove. My dear Henry 

Cod. Hush, Mrs. Dove ; allow your husband to select his own 
words at pleasure — yield a little to each other, 'tis the best and 
only way to secure domestic peace. I shall yield everything. 
Look at me ; I that three days ago was all flannel and under- 
waistcoats, now intend to defy air, draughts, open-windows, 
corner-houses, everything ; and I and Mrs. Coddle are going in 
search of the North Pole. Lynx, my boy, have you cleared up 
your mystery and satisfied your wife ? — that's right, now let us 
forgive and forget ; forget all but those qualities that first in- 
duced us to marry. Mrs. Sam, what did you have me for 1 

Mrs. Cod. Because I could discover, through all your eccent- 
ricities, a natural goodness of heart. 

Cod. Then whenever you are inclined to be angry with me, 
always think of that, and I, in return, will ever remember the af- 
fection that first led me to seek you. Lynx, what did you marry 
for? 

Lynx. I freely confess it was for love. 

Cod. And you, Mrs. Lynx, married him from the same im- 
pulse ? 

Mrs. Ly. Yes, sir. 



II 



MARRIEn LIFE. -JI 

Cod. And you, Mr. and Mrs. Younghusband, married- 



Young. For the same reason, as our friends Mr. and Mrs, 
Lynx married. 

Mrs. Y. For the same reason precisely. 

Cod. And you, Mr. Dismal 1 

Dis. Because I was tired of living alone. 

Cod. And Mrs. D. was weary of the same life, no doubt ? 

Mrs. Dis. I confess my weakness. 

Cod. And you, Mr. and Mrs. Dove, married — because — 

Mrs. Dove. Being a widow, and accustomed to a sharer in 
my joys and sorrows 

Dove. You took me into partnership, at my master's dissolu- 
tion. 

Cod. Well, then, whenever a disagreement breaks out among 
you in future, recall the memory of those inducements which 
first led you to think of each other, and you will find it to be a 
wonderful help to the restoration of peace. Do you all agree to 
this ! 

All. Yes, yes. 

Cod. Then follow my example, and ratify the agreement by a 
hearty conjugal embrace ; / will give the word of command 
Make ready 1 

As CODDhV. puts his ar?n round his wifes waist, each of the 
husbands does the same to his wife. 

Present ! 

Coddle takes his wife's chin between his fingers and thumb, 
and prepares to kiss her — all the husbands do the same. 
Fire ! 

{they all kiss and embrace at the sajne moment.) 

Cod. There, this is the way that all matrimonial quarrels should 
end ; and \iyou are of the same opinion, (to the audience) then, 
indeed will our conjugal joy be complete, and our light lesson 
not have been read in vain. You have seen the result of perpe- 
tual jealousy, in the case of Mr. and Mrs. Lynx ; of continual 
disputes and contradiction in that of Mr. and Mrs. Younghus- 
band ; of a want of cheerfulness in Mr. and Mrs, Dismal ; of the 
impolicy of public correction, in the instance of Mrs. Dove ; 
and of the necessity of assimilating habits and tempers in the 
singular case of Mr. and Mrs. Coddle. And though these may 
not be one half the cause of quarrel between man and wife — yet, 
even their exposure may serve as beacon lights, to avoid the 
rocks of altercation, when sailing on the sea of matrimony. So 
think of us, all ye anticipating and smiling single people ; for 
you 7nust or ought, all to be married, and the sooner the better 



52 



MARRIED LIFE. 



— and remember us, ye already paired ; and let our example 
prove to you, that, to mutual forbearance, mutual confidence 
mutual habits, mutual everything, must we owe mutual happi- 
ness. And where can the (^ifi"/ of happiness be found, but in a 
loyal and affectionate Married Life. 

DISPOSITION OF THE CHARACTERS, 



s: Mr. C. Mrs. Q ju. 



^o 



CURTAm 




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HELMEF 

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^ JTra^iicai itnd Sysietnatic Guide to the A> 




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CONTENTS. 

L Theatrical Wigs. — The Style and Form of Theatrical Wigs 
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n. Theatrical Beards. — How to fashion a Beard out of crepe 
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HL The Make-up. — A successful Character Mask, and how to 
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IV. The Make-up Box. — Grease Paints. Grease paintc in 
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9 Murray Street, New York. 



